


Captain America: Traitor

by xKyosan



Category: Avengers Assemble, Captain America - All Media Types, Iron Man - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alcoholism, Alternate Ending, Alternate Reality, Angst, Artist Steve Rogers, Civil War, Confusion, Dark Steve, Death, Depression, Drunkenness, Eventual Relationships, Evil Steve, F/M, Genital Mutilation, Hurt Tony Stark, I Don't Even Know, M/M, Mind Control, Miscarriage, One-Sided Attraction, Past Relationship(s), Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Protective Steve Rogers, SUPER LONG BUILD, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Smut, So much angst, So much pining it hurts, Steve Kills Tony, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve loves Tony, Stony - Freeform, Time Travel, Tony Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony's death, supper sappy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-25
Updated: 2017-02-13
Packaged: 2018-07-18 03:48:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 21
Words: 58,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7298236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xKyosan/pseuds/xKyosan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve is desperate to hold onto anything he can of Tony, he copes with his crimes by reliving the scenario over and over - only furthering his decent into madness. Reality becomes blurred - until he can no longer think or feel for himself. He never truly knows if he is alive or dreaming - praying to wash his hands of his crimes. </p><p>But prayers are often unheard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sour Taste

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Stefan :)](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Stefan+%3A%29).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Captain America, the all time american hero. More like a traitorous son of a bitch. 
> 
> The Accords, the Superhero Registration act, unwavering differences between two men of power lead Tony Stark and Steve Rogers on a path or destruction. Steve hadn't known what his intentions were, hadn't recalled even the faintest memory of the final strike, but the pain of knowing he'd done it was still enough to destroy him. Tony is still there, however. He doesn't lose hope in the man, after everything, he still believes that Steve is good. Or is it a lie? Is it just a memory? A false hope?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I follow some guidelines of the movies and comics, but this is a fanfiction for a reason. Not everything will match up to what happens.

The entire scene was wrong. Everything that played out was just wrong. Nothing about the situation made any sense, and everyone had a terrible time coming to terms with the events that had unfolded. Especially Steve.

Captain Rogers had maintained a facade that he was calm, collected, and always did the right thing. But in all reality, his soul was housing a darkness that even he hadn't realized or been remotely aware of. It became entirely too clear when his shield penetrated Tony's Arc Reactor - and inadvertently ended the man's life far too soon. Steve Rogers was not who he claimed to be. Man or Virtue, man of strength, man or protection. He was barely even a man at all. 

The scene of course had left Steve screaming in tears, begging to God to give Tony back to him. He shrieked that he didn't mean it - that he was sorry. Repeating the words 'please', and 'I didn't mean to', over and over as if they would somehow grant him the power to go back in time and change what had already been done. But alas, no such power existed - and if it had it was unknown to Steve.

The worst of the situation was that - even with Steve in lockup - he was still reliving that day over and over, driving himself mad with agony and torment as he practically forced himself to re-watch the life fade from Tony's eyes. Every night, before sleep came as a blissful release of the wretched life he'd come to know, he would relive every agonizing moment of their last fight.

But the day of his trial, that was a particularly interesting thing to watch.

He paced about his cell, chest heaving with frustration, he knew what was going to happen, had a perfect outline of how they would force him to do exactly what he'd been doing to himself and relive the entire scenario, play by play. Anxiety sounded like a vacation from what he was feeling.

He listened to the steps of the approaching guard. Little had he known, but apparently Tony had planned for the exact scenario. If Cap were ever to truly betray him, he made sure that the entire government was outfitted, or so it seemed to Steve, with weapons that were so powerful they actually managed to render him unconscious with ease.

He had learned that the hard way, his first day in the cell - which felt like a year ago to him. He could barely remember anything leading up to the situation, only that he was screaming, and quite literally throwing a fit. He remembered grabbing a guard and slamming them so hard into the steel pipes of his cell that he heard their bones crack.

Then black.

So naturally as the guards approached his cell, he backed away from the strange staff's that they held. He played the good boy, placing his arms on his head, legs spread, facing the concrete wall. He wanted to fight back, sure, something in his gut told him to, but he couldn't, he knew that he had to go through with the trial, even if it meant sitting at the stand and crying while being forced to relive the death of his closest friend.

When the cuffs clicked around his wrists, he felt a tingle go up his spine, he really wanted to fight back, it was like an itching desire. Almost as strong as when a druggie needed a hit, and he began to wonder if he was strong enough to fight back the urge to beat the living daylights out of the man cuffing him.

The thought was short lived, as Tony's face made itself to the forefront of his mind upon the guards spouting off something insensitive. All Cap needed to hear was his name and he snapped. Having only one arm cuffed didn't do the guards much good.

All he recalled was holding the man against the wall by his neck. Then he was opening his eyes, staring up at florescent lights.

'What is happening to me?' He looked about the room, questioning his own motivation for continuing on with what he considered a cursed life. He'd always been in pain and misery and on the rare occasion he wasn't, something bad inevitably happened and he would find himself in a downward spiral.

'Why did I choose Bucky? Why did I kill Tony?' The tears came down like an overdue avalanche and Steve - he didn't attempt to stifle them. His chest shook with sorrow, eyes stinging from the salty droplets that trickled down his cheeks. He truly loved Tony, but accepting his death was so hard.

But he had to. He killed him.

The gavel was a little jostling to Steve, like waking up to an alarm out of the middle of a great dream. How he wished he was dreaming and that Tony was still alive, that he hadn't driven his shield into the reactor and watched as Tony's life faded to nothing.

"We are here to determine the guilt of Mr. Steven Rogers, Captain America, in the murder of Mr. Tony Stark, also known as Iron Man. How do you plead?" He had two options, not guilty - which was a blatant lie, or guilty, which was the truth but would most likely end in some severity of punishment.

"How do you plead Mr. Rogers?" The man's voice erupted about the room. A balding head had reflected the light of the outside world, and a floppy underlip had shown the age of the man without issue, not to mention the small glasses that sat at the tip of his nose.

"Not guilty, your honor." Steve's eyes stayed glued onto the table before him, he hadn't known how he'd been dressed, how he'd gotten there, or why he should've cared and just plead guilty.

"Opening statements from the prosecutor." The man turned his attention to the right, looking over a woman, seated beside none other than Ms. Potts herself. Steve's eyes shifted to her, and in a moment he'd scoffed, laughing, abruptly into the room, gut busting laughter.

"Do you find something funny Mr. Rogers?"

"Pepper? Are you serious?!" He laughed, leaning forward in the chair, his beautiful blue gaze falling on her small frame. "As if you even care he's dead."

  
Her eyes shook at the sheer indifference he'd given. Laughing in her face about the love that they had lost, acting as if she didn't still care about.

"How dare you!" She jumped, moving passed the prosecutor towards Steve. "Just because Tony and I weren't together doesn't mean I wanted him dead! You should know that of all Steve! What is wrong with you!?" She screamed, barely a foot away from him, disregarding the raging judge slamming his gavel away like a weasel bopping hammer.

"Play the mighty one like you always do, but I was the one left cleaning up _your_ mess. You used him, and once you'd taken everything from him, you faded away into **nothing**." Steve was surprised at his attitude. He had thought very fondly of Ms. Potts - at least he _thought_ so.

"I will have order in this court!" The gavel came swinging down and silence fell across the room. "Ms. Potts, I understand that it is difficult to ignore Mr. Rogers and his remarks about your relationship with Mr. Stark - but please."

"I apologize your Honor, I thought there was still a decent person underneath the monster in that chair."

"Ms. Potts!"

  
She took her seat next to the prosecutor, hoping that her words affected Steve. Who in all reality, seemed so unaffected by her opinion he was making a fool of himself by faking being a crying baby.

"Mr. Rogers answer the question."

"I'm sorry - what?" Steve looked between the judge and the prosecutor, back and forth, as if trying to get a feel for the situation.

"Did you or did you not pierce Tony Stark's Arc Reactor with your shield?"

"Um..." Steve paused, where had the rest of the conversation gone? They couldn't be opening with that - it didn't make sense to relive that scene at the beginning of the trial.

And then his eyes scanned the clock, it had been 3 hours, and he didn't remember a single thing, not one answer.

"An answer sometime today, Mr. Rogers," the judge leaned over to him, the small glasses on the edge of his nose nearly falling off.

"I did."

"The prosecution rests."

"But wait I didn't-"

"Order Mr. Rogers! Defense, do you rest?"

"No your honor." The man stood, approaching to podium, eyes sharp on Steve. He had never noticed the man before, had no idea who he was or why he was defending him. "Mr. Rogers, though you have admitted to landing the blow that ultimately ended Iron Man - Tony Stark's - life, the question that I feel is more important - did you intend for it to be fatal?"

"Objection your honor!"

"Sustained, where are you going with this?

"Superhero's have an unknown power, it stands to reason that Steve simply intended to disrupt Tony enough to render him unable to continue the battle, but perhaps in the heat of battle, Steve's abilities remained unbalanced and resulted in a tragic accident."

"Objection!"

"On what grounds?!" Steve's attorney spewed back. 

"It's straight shit and you know it!" The prosecutor growled back at Steve's attorney, eyes hiding a fire beneath the green.

"ORDER! Prosecutor one more outburst like that and-"

"I did."

The courtroom fell into a dead silence as Steve's voice fell about the hall.

"In that moment - when I brought my shield to Tony's reactor... everything in me was screaming for me to kill him. But as soon as I did I wanted to take it all back." He paused staring down at the floor, as if replaying the scene in his mind over and over. "He once told me, 'I can't imagine a time or place where we'll be on opposite sides.' And I really believed him for a long time. I'm not saying I don't deserve whatever punishment I'm given - but if I could undo what I did, I would."

The determination of his guilt was obvious, the only thing to really consider was his ability to lead a relatively _normal_ life after the events; in jail or otherwise. And it was no secret to anyone that something within Steve Rogers had changed the moment his shield pierced Tony's reactor.

"Mr. Rogers, this court finds you guilty of first degree murder and hereby sentences you to life in prison."

The echo of the gavel was all it took for Steve to accept in totality the sin he'd committed. And all he could do was pray that somewhere in the universe, Tony could forgive him.

He still replayed the scenario over and over in his head, going about every move, every dodge, every small thing he did that ended up in his shield disrupting Tony’s arc reactor and ending his life. But he couldn’t - for the life of him remember the fatal blow. Though he had, only moments before admitted that he intended for it to kill Tony, which he wasn’t even sure was true or not - he couldn’t remember diving the shield into the man’s chest. But his eyes. They haunted him with a constant reminder of the pain and betrayal Tony must have felt in the last few seconds of his life.

He had suppressed the last moment between them into the darkest areas of his mind, begging for some relief from the constant torment of his self destruction. But Tony’s eyes, watching as the light faded away into nothing - it was something no amount of whiskey could ever render alright.

Not that he usually drank anyway - but something in him had been changing while he neared his trial date - and he was drinking through alcohol like water, unable to reach a moment of inhibition. The alcohol didn't work when Bucky died, why would it work then? Something made him snap - he attributed it to being the murder he committed but he wasn’t entirely convinced. There were plenty of other things that had helped push his sanity over the edge.

“Carrying the weight of the world alone for so long can be difficult.” Steve didn’t believe the voice he heard in the back of that truck that was transporting him to whatever facility they thought was capable of holding him. He couldn’t bring his eyes up to meet the voice, but he didn’t need to, because it was done for him.

The man, forefinger and thumb resting on Steve’s jawline, forced his head to raise, meeting his blue gaze with deep, nearly obsidian, eyes.

“T-Tony?” He pulled back, pressing his cuffed hands so hard into the wall he felt the markings being made as the metal desperately tried to break passed the skin.

“What are you doing here, Soldier?” Steve’s belly churned - he loved that about Tony - his nonchalant attitude he constantly sported as if nothing mattered. He wished he could be more like that.

“You’re not real….” Steve’s head began to shake, so fast that he had to close his eyes to fight the nausea that was setting in.

“I’m as real as you want me to be, Steve…” Tony stepped closer to him, grabbing his head with both hands, eyes staring right through Steve’s trauma and somehow bringing him back to himself.

“Tony-” Steve’s hands wanted to grab at Tony’s wrist, to hold him, but he couldn't. Tears filled his eyes as he searched for an apology, “I’m - what I - I didn’t mean - I can’t -” Tony brought his hands down to Steve’s arms, moving in to hold Steve’s head to his belly.

“How are you ok with what I did?” Steve's voice shook against Tony's body. 

“Because - sometimes when the world tells you to move, you plant yourself like a tree in the river of truth and say no, you move.” Tony looked down at the big doe eyes Steve had constantly tortured him with.

“But Tony I ki-”

“No, Steve. Right now I need you.” Tony stepped back, kneeling before Steve, looking up into his beautiful sparkling eyes.

“I don’t understand…” Steve kept his gaze locked on Tony’s. “Please - don’t leave me, I can’t live anymore - not without you - not with what I’ve done.”

“Steve… You’ve battled through so much worse than losing me. One last fight and you can have me back. Get out of this truck. Find Fury. Find Shield. That’s where I am.”

“You’re not real Tony!”

“You’re right, I’m a computer program activated by the real me at the Shield headquarters because I’m still alive! Go find me Steve, please...”

Steve looked about, wondering how he could possibly fight against them with his hands behind his back. And though he struggled with the movements at first, he managed to hold himself on the ceiling. He dropped down as soon as the doors were open and the guards had come in, his body moved like a bullet, rendering them unconscious. He desperately searched for the key, he couldn’t break the cuff’s - he had to find the key. His hands trailed over the holster on one of the guards. Key gripped between his fingers, a couple of twists and his hands were free. 

With his freedom, he grabbed one of the staffs they had used to render him unconscious and armed himself with it. Tony hadn’t been clear about how to find him, or even a general direction on where to go - but he trusted him and if he needed his help, he could be sure Steve would find him. He peeked around the truck, they only had two guards transporting him? He pondered at the unlikely scenario. There was no way they would only send two men to accompany him. And why did Tony tell him to find Fury? Fury had completely betrayed them - the questions were piling up - but as long as he had Tony to focus on, real or not, he would fight.

He moved to the side of the truck, he was feeling vulnerable without his suit and shield. Tony had put a lot of effort into upgrading his uniform to withstand a lot of wear and tear - as well as added flexibility.

“I need something - some kind of gear… And I have no idea where I am - damn Tony.” He groaned, heading back into the truck, pulling all of the gear off the men. He strapped it on, looked himself over, “The good ol' days.”

He marched his way around the truck, taking in the empty barren seen around him. They had literally taken him to the top of a cliff, in the middle of nothing - and he wasn’t even sure how they had gotten so far already. More than likely they'd knocked him out, again.

He made his way around the plateau they rested on, narrowing his eyes on the distance, searching for any sign of where they had taken him. His ears listened on a faint whistling sound, and he followed it.

He checked the guards to make sure they were still inebriated. He brought his attention back to the sound, following the strange whistle into a cavern. He heard voice. He peeked into a large room, just enough to see more men in uniforms holding the same staff that had been used on him. Such a strange weapon. He made his way down the small corridor. He caught sight of two guards, waited until both their heads were turned before striking. Helmets clanked together and he continued down the path, stepping silently over their unconscious bodies.

The further into the tomb he made it, the more machinery came into play, and the more curious he’d become. What were they doing in the depths of that mountain? Why was everyone always keeping secrets from him?

“Bad idea buddy.” Tony’s voice washed over him and again his head turned to search for the figure - but this time he wasn’t there.

“I wouldn’t go down that hall - there’s a lot of tough guys in there - and they won’t be too happy to see you.” Steve turned the other direction, finding a smaller tunnel that led down the right side of the large room he was coming close to.

A huge - thing. Steve couldn’t think of what to call it, but read the letters M4A on the side in classic military lettering. His eyes narrowed as he took in it’s size - a weapon? He scanned over it, wishing Tony was with him - that man could tell in an instant what any technology was - he was a genius. But Steve wasn’t exactly too familiar with technology. He had enough know how that he could manage to understand the majority of basic machines and tech, but no where near the level that Tony could. He just wasn’t a science guy.

As he looked over the room before him, the itch for Tony’s input  hardened. It made him think, and he recalled the time when the literal the epitome of his knowledge on the tech was, “It seems to run on some kind of electricity.” To which Tony had replied, “Well, you’re not wrong.” It made his heart ache. They had been so close up until the Accords - and as much as Steve wanted to be able to sign them - he couldn’t. He was too aware of what the government was planning and the control they wanted and he wouldn’t be stopped from doing the right thing no matter who stood in his way. Even Tony.

It almost looked like a giant robotic drone, the size of Stark Towers, most likely capable of destroying an entire city with little effort - Steve’s heart sank. Why were they always trying to be at war? He didn’t understand the desire to outmatch their nonexistent opponents.

Even with that machine sitting there he knew his top priority had to be finding Tony; because Tony was the only one who would be able to stop the machine. But finding him without any clue of where he was would be more difficult than he had initially thought. While he had that - image - of Tony popping up now and then - he wasn’t entirely convinced it was really some program running about in his mind. God knows what Tony had done to him while he was unconscious around the man - saying upgrade this and that. He knew, without a doubt, that Tony had made those staff’s because he was the only one ever successful in putting the man to sleep during any “maintenance”.

  
So he tore himself away from his worry and kept focusing on Tony, following the path he felt was right in his endeavor to find his best friend. As if Tony felt the same way about Steve. Sure his hallucination - or holographic projection - of Tony said that he forgave him, but actually seeing the man face to face could be entirely different. The feeling was eating at him, he had to see him, had to hold him, to tell him he was mistaken - he wasn’t thinking clearly - anything that could grant him the smallest amount of forgiveness from the only persons whose opinion really affected him.

He came to a door and placed his hands on it, seeing the small terminal to his right, staring at it, wondering if the staff could somehow damage it enough to pop the door open. He shrugged and pulled the stick out, gave the terminal a good thwack, and to his luck, it did the trick. The door slipped open enough for him to use his brute force to pry the sliding metal back until he was inside. He turned around, a dim lit room. He could hardly see a thing, but the closer he got to the center the more his eyes focused on the scene before him.

“Tony?!”

He ran to the glass tank, hands holding onto it, fingers gripping at the glass as an unconscious Tony floated in a mucky mess of goo. He stared up at the man, taking in every detail of his face - still not sure if it was real or not. His hand grazed across the glass, he wanted to touch his face - solidify the fantasy he was dreaming in - he begged for it to be real.

“Tony, please wake up - I can’t do this without you - I can’t live without you…” He brought his forehead to the glass, tears forming in his eyes - he was breaking into pieces, seeing the scar across his chest where his shield had collided with soft skin. He was a disgrace.

“Never thought I’d see you cry Cap.” Tony’s voice washed over him again, and he brushed the tears away as if it never happened.

“Tony?!” He looked up at the lifeless body, eyes still shaking when he realized it wasn’t him. “What have they done to you?”

“They turned me into a computer - quite literally.” The hologram of him appeared beside Steve, smiling. “I’ve got a lot of secrets in that brain of mine - Shield wanted them - so they planned the perfect scenario to get them…” He turned to Steve. “Get me out. I’m running out of energy to keep transmitting my signal to you - please Steve - get me out of here.” He brought his hand to Steve’s chest. “I need you Cap. More than ever.”

He faded into the darkness of the room, and Steve didn’t need much more encouragement than that. He pulled his fist back, and with a couple of painful strikes the glass shattered, and he caught a naked Tony in his arms.

Sirens blared, he knew he had little time to escape. Luck be it Tony had brought him through what he perceived to be a service tunnel and not a direct access point, so going back the same route seemed the most plausible.

He kicked the door in, strength coming from nothing, and stormed down the hall, carrying Tony as if he were a bag of feathers. He rushed out the main entrance and ran to the truck, pushing out the two guards he’d left there. He slammed the doors closed, placed tony in the passenger seat and buckled him in before driving out of the area like a madman. He knew they needed to find somewhere to hide, but he needed to find something for Tony to wear.

He made it only about half a mile before he pulled to the side of the road. Looking over Tony’s body hurt him. He looked so frail and weak. Steve hated seeing him like that. But he didn’t have time to sit and ponder at the man - he had to get them both to safety. He dove into the back of the truck, searching for any clothing left behind from lazy workers.

A hoodie - better than nothing. He climbed over to the passenger side of the vehicle. In only a moment he tied the jacket around Tony’s waist, doing his best to leave the man with some dignity. After unhooking the seat belt, he tossed his unconscious Tony over his shoulder, popped open the door and carried him to a nearby bed or rocks. Steve leaned Tony against the earthly compounds, leaving him be so he could rig the truck. He plummeted it off a cliff, hoping that the choppers he heard in the distance would assume the worst and leave them be.

Of course, he couldn’t keep them out in the open - he had to find shelter. A cave in the distance was the most inviting.

He carried Steve like a bride to the dark cave, nestled him in a rock nook, hoping he’d be comfortable enough in it. He had no idea what to do - he didn’t know where to go or who to call - he was still racking his brain about the fact that Tony was alive. And it warmed him so much he had forgotten for a moment that they were hiding, and he couldn’t fight the urge to hold Tony’s hand, stroking his thumb over the soft skin, staring at him with such pained concern.

He was breathing, shallow breaths - but breathing, and Steve smiled, feeling the tears washing over his face again. How was it that Tony turned him into such an idiot? He didn’t understand why the man had such a hold over him.

“St-”

“Shh. Don’t Tony. Please… I’m not done saving you yet - don’t waste your strength.” Of course Tony didn’t listen to Steve, and raised his hand to the man’s face.

“Thank - you…” He looked up at him his eyes soft and wanting, and all Steve could do was hold his hand against his cheek, savoring the moment. Staring into Tony’s eyes felt like home, they had an unbreakable bond, nothing could ever tear them apart. But Steve was still so lost about the entire situation - still unsure if he meant for Tony to die. He was a fugitive.

“Steve?” Tony turned his head to see the angel before him, looking over his hurt face, staring at the pain in his eyes.

“Tony stop. You don’t have enough strength to talk. Please, stop.”

“Steve - we have to stop Shield - they’ve… Taken plans I can’t stop them…”

Steve just stared at Tony, his chest bare where the reactor should have been - he had to get him home. He had to get him to another arc reactor. He had to find a way to save him - it was the only way to make up for the crimes he’d committed.

“Please Tony, I will be your armor for now.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That last line is CORNY AF but I love it <3
> 
> I reference Tony having an Arc Reactor still - even though we all know he doesn't have it during Civil War. Be patient, I promise it'll make sense.


	2. Left Behind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve "Saves" Tony

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the short chapter!

Cap hadn’t realized it, but by removing Tony from his chamber, he was actually slowly killing him. Without the reactor Tony would die, and sure he’d been in that tank without it, but there were so many tubes tied into him that there was something that was at the base keeping him alive. And without the reactor - he would slowly die.

Steve stared down at the sleeping Tony, still struggling with a plan to get them out of that area. He had no signal of where they were, no way to communicate with anyone - as if anyone was on their side anyway. He thought about Tasha for a moment, wondering how much she hated him. To them - the avengers - Steve _killed_ Tony. There was no question about it. It was actually Tasha who managed to tie Steve up enough for them to carry him away to jail.

He had to find a way out. He placed his hand over Tony’s shoulder, his deep blue eyes locked onto the beautiful man before him. People had constantly called Tony egotistical, self absorbed, selfish, wasteful - a lot of it wasn’t a lie - either. But they didn’t see the side of him Steve had seen all the time. No one saw the things he had done for him before everything fell apart, before they suddenly battled against each other instead of the enemy. No one knew how he had built him an entire room for his drawings and paintings, or that he had helped teach him how to use the new technology, how Tony was constantly showing him new gadgets. No one knew about how Steve felt when he came out of the ice, completely naive to the world. Tony had given him a purpose, shown him something to live for. Sure the guy was a dick almost 99% of the time, but the 1% he wasn’t - he was the sweetest person Steve had ever met.

He had to protect Tony. Leaving him alone was the only option in the moment. He had to survey the area - recon it and get some idea of what he was up against with nothing more than an electric staff and his bare hands. How he begged for his shield, and wished Iron Man could fight beside him - but Tony was in no shape to even lift his head.

He slipped out in silence, looking back at the darkened cave he knew Tony slumbered in, something wasn’t sitting right in his gut. The situation was almost too perfect. Tony was still alive, after hours of having been removed from the tank, it wasn’t making sense - the reactor was _gone_. He shouldn’t have been able to survive without it for so long. He smelled a set up.

He took in a deep breath of the crisp desert air. He was about a mile from where he had left Tony. No signs of life anywhere, but he knew he couldn’t leave Tony there for much longer. Traveling in the dark of night was the best option.

He headed back, wanting to run but reserving his energy, he did have to carry Tony. Steve knew there was no way he would be able to even lift himself up from the rock bed Steve had placed him in.

He approached the cave and struggled to see in the pitch black of it - he wished for that light blue glow that Tony used to offer - but nothing was there anymore. But he could still smell the musky odor from the goo he was in - like rotting wood.

“Tony?” He placed his palm flat against Tony’s chest, feeling for the shallow breathing Tony had been experiencing. Steve felt a wave of relief wash over him as the chest wriggled beneath his hand. He picked the fragile man up and headed back out, marching into the darkness of the desert, caution to the wind. He had no plan - it wasn’t like Cap to not have a plan.

 

Tony’s deep obsidian eyes peeled open to see the glow of the silver moon against Steve’s blonde head, forcing a smile to lift, uncontrollably, to his lips.

“Hey Spangles.”

“Tony?” Steve’s eyes lit up and he looked down at the man.

“How long have I been out?”

“You need to conserve your energy-” Steve’s face twisted as the thought of losing Tony rushed into him, corrupting his logic.

“I’m fine talking - calm down Soldier.” Tony smirked up at the man, not really in any position to be telling Steve what to do - as if he ever was.

“Tony -” Steve couldn’t help but smile, there was something about his cocky I don’t-give-a-fuck- attitude that drew Steve to him.

“What Soldier?” He laughed again, fighting back a cough - he didn’t want to see Steve all worried and cautious.

“Stop it…” His voice lightened, turning into more of a playful taunt than anything too demanding.

“Make me.” Tony lifted his eyebrows, teasing Cap as he usually did, but there wasn’t really a way Steve could actually do anything to shut him up - it would probably kill him.

“Shut it Stark.”

“I said, make. Me.” Tony’s eye softened, staring up at Steve. He had longed to see him, being in that tank, constantly thinking, it was Steve that had really kept him holding on for so long. His entire attitude, Steve being Dudley-do-right. Everything about him - Tony longed for it, constantly, begged for his attention, his affection, his approval. Steve was the closest thing Tony had to ever knowing who his father was vs who Tony  _thought_ he was.

“I don’t think you really want me to, Tony.” Steve gave a soft smile, wanting to taunt the man back even more than he had. Better judgement came in and told him to stop.

“Alright Capsicle.” Tony took a breath in, sharp, and his face winced up, Steve slowed down, stopping to stare at him - expecting the worst.

“I’m ok Steve…. I’m ok just... I’m ok.” Tony wasn’t ok. He could feel himself getting weaker - but he didn’t know how he was losing it - he wasn’t sure what was happening to him - how he’d stayed alive let alone awake for so long without anything in his chest.

“I think - I think Shield must’ve put mini reactors in me… I shouldn’t even be alive at this point.”

“Tony please, stop, just relax, I’m going to get you home - we’re going to fix this.”

“Don’t make me a promise you can’t keep Soldier.”

 Steve sunk, his heart falling out of his chest - if he could have given Tony his life in that moment, he would have. But he couldn’t - he didn’t know how, other than to keep walking and hope they fell into civilization. What else could he do?

 

He sat himself against a rock, Tony’s head in his lap, he had to take a break, just for a bit - close his eyes, get a bit of sleep and relaxation. His hand rested over Tony’s chest, feeling the shallow breathing that constantly came, making note of it even in his slumber. Steve was incapable of truly being vulnerable and unconscious of his own will. He was too much of a soldier, yet apparently enough of a human to.

And when his eyes opened - everything was different. It hadn’t felt like more than a few minutes - but Tony was gone - and they weren’t outside. He looked about, taking in the scene before him, _that_ building?

They’d been caught.

“Where's Tony?!”

“You know you nearly killed him.” A distorted male sounding voice came into the room, from every angle, but no one was connected to it.

“Where is he!?” Steve screamed, pulling hard on the chains that strung him like a pinata.

“He’s fine, and he will remain fine unless you pull a stunt like that again. You know Captain America - it’s a little sad how easy it was to capture you again. You’re not really much of a soldier are you? Can’t even follow orders properly. The Accords were just a trial run to see how you took directive. You failed, needless to say. Tony helped us find a way to deal with that side of you, just before it all happened too."

A woman came out from the shadows, she looked insanely familiar but Steve couldn’t recall from where he’d seen her or how he knew who she was. Her face - it rang bells in his head. His eyes shifted about her, as he desperately tried to remember where he’d seen her from. Small flashes of a disgustingly dirty room filled his thoughts, tied down to a table, screaming with anger, saying things he would never say.

“What is this?!” He screamed, squirming about in chains, making it harder and harder for her to approach him.

“The serum she is going to inject, houses nano technology developed by none other than Tony Stark - its prime directive - to control _you._ It’s done a wonderful job so far. No one ever would have imagined you striking down into Tony’s suit hard enough to pierce his heart. And good job by the way - a true show of strength.”

“...Tony? You’re a liar!” He fought hard against the chains, but the woman waited patiently at the side until he began to settle with the thoughts of Tony’s betrayal.

“Don’t you find it strange that you don’t remember exactly what happened? The final blow? The serum works oh so well. I suppose we were lucky enough that he was too frightened to shoot you. Had he, it would have destroyed the bots that were taking control of you."

“You’re lying!” in a moment he felt the prick of the needle, and trembling eyes began to tear up at the heat building in him.

“Calm down.” The woman's voice fell over him. It was icy, cold and callous. 

“Tony - he …” Steve's words fell into a jumbled mess of groans. 

“You remember it as if you were desperate to destroy the arc reactor. It was never there. Tony had it removed. But your mission was to destroy him. Of course, you did just that by technically killing him. You know, if it hadn't been for Tony's nano tech, you probably wouldn't have killed him.”

“But he -” his eyes glazed as the serum worked its way through his body, taking hold of his mind.

“Don’t worry too much about Tony. We have our ways of keeping him intact - same as you.” The voice clicked out and the chains brought the dazed Steve down, weight on his feet.

“Here’s your mission.” The woman handed him a manila folder and left the room.

 

Steve opened the file and looked over all of the information, taking it all in. He read over the words several times, scanning it until he felt he had truly retained it all. His blue eyes lifted - scanning the room. He pulled himself towards the door, following the narrow hall until he reached the small corridor in which Tony’s body lay.

A new reactor? He looked down at it - the voice had said that the reactor had been removed but Tony’s state suggested that either they were lying - or he had a new one implanted. What was it’s purpose? The point before was to keep those bits of shrapnel from reaching his heart - and killing him. But with the Reactor being removed as well as the shrapnel what use for a reactor was there?

He moved his fingers along Tony’s arm, across his chest and down to the center of his sternum, pressing just hard enough that small bits of white skin remained for a few seconds once he pulled away. It was truly curious - he wasn’t a genius but he also wasn’t stupid. He understood the basics of the reactor - power production.  But why did he need one?

Tony shifted on the table, the wound in his chest was still raw - the reactor was too fresh for him to even really be conscious at all. But like his well being had ever stopped anyone from hurting him before. His dark eyes peered up at Steve, and a smile lifted to his lips, but only for a moment before the smile was removed by Cap’s hand jostling his jaw about.

Tony’s instinct was to grunt at the sudden jolt, the shake of the moment - and the shock of how aggressive Steve was being with him. His eyes narrowed, nearly a glare but not quite enough anger for it. He wanted to push Steve’s hand from his face but upon the initial desire to move realized that he was strapped down to the table he was sprawled on.

Tony jostled a bit, shaking his arms in an attempt to free himself. With his being tied down , the excruciating pain in his chest, and Steve holding him in such an aggressive manner - it was no surprise his body screamed run. But Tony was always a fighter - or that was what he thought. But every time he made a decision about fighting or fleeing - he was always saving someone else - and now that he needed the saving - he couldn’t fathom _how_ to save himself.

Steve’s hand shifted, his thumb pressing hard into the side of Tony’s neck, of course he squirmed under the pressure, he couldn’t force himself to keep his vision clear enough to even bring his attention to Steve. He was too focused on trying to breath, literally focusing and telling himself to make sure he was breathing. But even as he could clearly see his chest heaving, his sight began to darken, until nothing more than a pinhole of light remained, and just as that pinhole closed, the grip on his neck was removed and the painful shock of consciousness took Tony for a ride.

He gasped, his chest heaving and huffing with every breath he took, his eyes trembling as he looked over at a Steve he didn’t know. He was _scared_. And Steve could tell, watched as the sweat dripped down the side of Tony's forehead, down his cheek, until it dropped off just below his earlobe. The thing that scared Tony the most was the look in Steve’s eyes - nothingness. It was like looking into an abyss - he was hollow, and it was a terrifying sight.

As quickly as Tony had clung to breath, he found himself clinging to suffocation. The interesting thing was that he never felt Steve press down on his esophagus, it was to the side of it, on both sides, with just enough pressure that the room would start to darken and then with a release, would all come rushing back in.

“Stop!” Tony begged, more tears pouring out of his eyes, not sad, angry. His voice was shaking with rage. That dark tone he would get when he _knew_ without a _doubt_ that he was _right_. He knew what that tone would usually do to Steve, turn him into a little puppy who would come rushing back with his tail between his legs.

“I don’t take orders from you, Stark.” And with a quick swoop, his hand was once again stealing away the consciousness Tony had been so desperately clinging to. Tony tried to break free of the man’s grip but failed - which only lead to him nearly blacking out even faster than before. Cap held on a little longer that time, watching as his face relaxed into a calm state before releasing his hold and stepping back from the table, waiting for Tony to once more regain awareness.

It was not a pretty sight when he did.

 

His eye shot open, and he huffed out a strange groaning scream - anger looked good on him. Furrowed brows, tight lips, his nose nearly twitching from all the frustration. They knew that Tony hated not getting his way, and with Steve under their control - there was no way that Tony would get his way - which made him oh so pliable.

He bucked like a mustang against the dental style chair, exhausting himself quicker than Cap could have doing the ‘choking’ routine. But the method _was_ working. Psychology 101 on training your enemy. Cap was slowly becoming a dark relation to Tony even if he didn’t admit it - and if it they erased any memory of the situation, the instincts would remain. Steve would touch him and he would naturally feel anxiety and discomfort.

If SHIELD ever wanted to regain control of the Avengers - Steve _had_ to be controlled, and so did Tony - almost Tony more than Steve. Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist, it was hard to keep someone like that in check - calm, collected. And he had been displaying signs of PTSD since the bombing in NY when he nearly died - when Steve thought he _did_ die.

But step one would still take time to implement, and the punishment and torture had to grow more and more severe as the days passed - until Tony would barely be able to say awake and would start to wonder why he even wanted to.

 

And just that happened, he knelt, on the ground, before Steve, staring at a pool of his blood, and began to ponder why he even fought to stay awake. He knew the Steve he saw before him was corrupt, defective - _broken._ He never thought he would see the day when a man with such constitution would crumble and become a monster.

The last blow was hard - harder than he’d ever felt before, and as his head snapped, blood spilled and danced with the air until falling with a trickling splat to the floor beneath him, followed by his head. He was so exhausted of the beatings, he didn’t even want to scream, or grunt, or groan, or cry, and beg - or make noise at all.

“Get up.” Steve stepped over to him, grabbing his somewhat shagged hair, ripping him away from the ground, looking at the pained face Tony had.

“Steve… please -”

He could _not_ breathe. The fist came at him so hard, and so fast, and so - surprised that he was crying for air but couldn’t even open his lips to take the breath. So he collapsed, scrunching into a ball as the pain of the impact spread across his stomach - feeling it even more when the air finally ripped his lungs apart and brought him back from the brink of death.

“I don’t take orders from you.” He kept repeating that to Tony, it was like he was on auto-reply - repeat or something.

“I’m not ordering!” Tony lifted himself to his hands and knees, eyes narrowing hard onto Steve’s body. “I’m asking! There’s a difference!”

“I don’t take-” Tony, out of some sheer miracle, stood up, ran towards Steve and pushed him as hard as he could until he slammed him into the wall. Inches from him, his dark eyes locked onto the blue balls of beauty.

“WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS!?” He brought his hands from Steve’s chest to his head, slamming it so hard into the concrete wall he thought he’d broken Steve's skull. There wasblood, but he hadn’t killed Steve - barely even hurt him at all.

“Why do you keep hurting me!?” He held tight onto Steve’s head, tangling his fingers in the short blonde strands. His grip tightened, and and he brought Steve's face to his knee. Tony never wanted to hurt him - even in it all - but he couldn’t just keep taking the beatings.

More blood.

“WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!” Tony threw him back into the wall, chest heaving as he screamed. “Where are you in there?!” The small fight took a lot out of Tony, and he crumpled to his knees, barely able to even sit without passing out. He stared at Steve - he was so unaffected by it.

“You said you’d be my armor - and you can’t even be my soldier.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there's hints at that whole reactor thing I talked about... HM.... What am I planning?!


	3. Breaking the Ice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neither Steve nor Tony recall anything after the trial, as if it never happened. But there is terror hidden in Tony's subconscious, and admitting that leads to events Steve never would have fathomed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut tease!

 

Tony’s eyes shot open, flinging the blankets into a pile on the floor. Being torn from a dream wasn’t the best way to wake up - but not really knowing if what you thought had happened was a dream or not was even more torturous. He ran his hand over his chest, eyes trembling as he tried to father his composure. And of course an alluring Steve happened to be standing in the doorway, a sweat ring around his collar. 

“You alright Tony?” His eyes hardened on the man for a bit, taking in the utter discomfort of the situation he was in. Steve stepped towards him, his arm reaching out as a gesture of good faith. He hadn’t always called Tony by his first name, especially when speaking about him to other people. It was constantly Mr. Stark this, or Mr. Stark that. He attributed it to his childhood, and the way his mother had raised him. 

Steve truly was a gentlemen - despite the way his father had treated he and his mother for oh so long. He was the man to put aside his own problems to focus on whoever was in the front of him. And 99% of the time it was Tony - being stupid - being smart - or just in general  _ being. _

Tony’s lips parted and a small, sigh let’s call it, escaped his dry lips. His eyes pulled to Steve’s body and he chuckled, 

“Spangles, do you ever not look like a playgirl model?” 

 

Steve rolled his eyes. He shook his head a bit at the utter ridiculous nature Tony was sporting that morning. It was different than his usual attitude, and a lot more exhausting.

“What are you doing in my damn suite anyway?” Tony stood from the bed, wrapping his deliciously comfortable comforter around his body like an eskimo. 

“I heard you screaming and panting in your sleep, thought I’d come check on you.” Steve’s arms crossed over his chest. “Next time I’ll make sure to leave you be.” He made a small attempt at a turn, stopping at Tony’s response.

“I could’ve been sleeping with someone.” Tony gave a chuckle. He watched Steve’s face fall flat and un-amused. He loved looking at his perfect lips straighten into a nearly flat line whenever he was irritated with one of his jokes or antics. 

“Considering how late you were out last night - I’m surprised I came in to find you alone.” He wiped away from sweat from his temple, eyes scanning over Tony. 

“Don’t be getting jealous on me, Rogers.” Tony had no idea why he said that, and he fought hard to keep his look of surprise hidden from Steve. He just had to hide that he was always really insecure about his relationship with Steve. 

It was delicate - like an orchid, too much water and it’ll drown, too much light and it’ll cook, too much of anything and it will shrivel away into nothing. And he  _ needed _ Steve - in so many ways he could barely understand it. The man was just  _ there _ always - even in fights - even on opposite ends of the spectrum - Steve was just - there. 

“Tones?” Steve lifted his brow, wrinkling his perfect forehead, eyes washing over every inch of Tony’s hidden body. 

“Sorry, thinking.” Tony sauntered towards him, smiling a bit. “I had a really interesting dream about you last night.” 

Steve just stared down at him, engaging in a response was risky - it could be a set up - it could be the truth - it could be a number of other cruel jokes that Tony loved to play on his trusting and gullible friend. 

“You killed me. I watched as you hovered over my body with the shield and pierced it into my chest and I died.” 

“I would never do that Tony!” Steve turned away from him, anger tensing his entire body in a full quick strike. 

“Well I know that!” Tony moved after him, wanting to touch him. His gut churned as his hand reached and his fingers grazed that back of Steve’s elbow. But it had gotten Steve’s attention and he turned back to see a shamed and hurt Tony. 

“I don’t know why I would have thought that. I know you could - you could never do that to me, right Spangles?” He brought his gaze back to Steve, eyes shaking - he was so innocent. Sure Steve was the ‘naive’ one - but Tony was _ innocent _ . A lot had happened to the man - it was shocking to ever see him so disheveled about anything. 

“You know Stark, for a tough guy in a suit - you sure are a softie.” Steve sighed, shaking his head, hoping for some noble shit to pop up in his brain. 

“Shut up Spangles.” Tony pushed passed him, a smirk dancing on his lips, eyes tied to Steve’s body as he moved around the corner. The wall was the only thing that broke the stare. The churning in his stomach was getting harder to ignore - every time Steve was near him he felt a conflict - stay or go?

“Why don’t you make me Stark?” Steve marched out the room, calling out to Tony. He was more than happy with his reply to Tony, it was no hidden fact that the man would eventually rub off on Steve. 

“Any time, any place Spangles.” 

 

When did pet names become so enjoyable? Steve smiled, shaking his head as his eyes trailed about the floor. He remembered what their first encounters were like - that hate love thing. They both respected each other - and yet at the same time couldn’t  _ stand _ to be around each other. 

Steve’s favorite memory was when Tony and he had been arguing about how ‘glorious’ Tony was, being nothing but an engineer and not a real hero - but he had proven Steve so wrong when he took that nuke into that portal and nearly died saving an entire city - possibly the entire east coast. 

He was a hero. 

 

That’s what had made Steve rush into Tony’s room - he knew about the PTSD. And even though Tony brushed it off, and Banner was useless as  _ that _ type of doctor - he had been in war - same as Tony. But he was more capable of dealing with the anxiety than Tony was - at least that was how Steve perceived it. 

Tony wasn’t weak - despite the way Pepper and Rhodey had both played it out to be, he was trying to save himself when no one else would lend a hand. 

That’s why Steve was there - even after everything with Bucky, which they both remembered very differently than what had happened. Tony couldn’t stay angry at the only person left in his life, even when he had, Steve fought like hell to stay in it. 

Downward spirals were in Tony’s nature - he got that from his father. Steve had known how destructive Howard had been, so seeing the same thing happen to Tony wasn’t really that surprising so much as painful. 

He genuinely loved the guy - he would dive into battle to save him just as he would for anyone else. But there was one thing he would most definitely do for Tony that he couldn’t fathom doing for anyone else - literally dying for the man. 

Steve, in nature, would risk his life to protect others, but he knew without a doubt that he would literally  _ die  _ to save Tony. He would jump off a roof just to throw Tony back onto it and fall to his death if it meant that Tony would be safe. That type of love, and concern, he hadn’t even known that it was happening, so much that it actually happened and he realized it in a moment. And it happened in New York. 

“Hey Tony!” Steve beckoned the man, he himself moving down the hall to the direction Tony had gone. 

“What?” He peered out of a small workshop that was not supposed to be on the residential floor but Steve ignored because it was helping with the PTSD, and Tony owned the whole thing so he didn’t have much room to complain.

“You know…” He moved into the room, smiling at Tony’s work. He loved seeing him staring at codes and programming, and literally sciencing the hell out of everything. 

“What’s up Spangles?” Tony swiveled around in his chair, tapping a pencil against his lips, doe eyes staring up at the wanting blue in Steve’s. 

Steve gulped, shaking off the uneasy and unwelcome desire to tear Tony’s clothes off and ravish him. But it wasn’t in time, and he felt his cheeks tingle, along with a massive dose of what-the-fuck-am-I-thinking. 

“Steve?” Tony dropped the pencil, standing from his chair, closing the space between them, personal space - ha what’s that?

“Sorry I was uh…” Steve shook off the thought and focused on the story he had been recalling while going to town on his punching bag until it shred and all the filling fell into a pile on the floor. 

“Oh come on Spangles, the suspense is killing me.” He turned away from him and moved over to the holographic computer screen. 

“I was just thinking about what happened in New York - when you came crashing down and I honestly thought that you were going to…” 

“Die?” Tony said it with ease, like it didn’t affect him at all. Which was a lie. Of course it affected him, in that moment he was  _ ready  _ to die. 

“I was terrified.” 

“What?” Tony turned around, brows furrowed at the revelation. 

“I was really terrified you were going to die, I could barely think straight. I didn’t know how to save you… I always know what to do. I was so scared, Tony.” He brought his gaze to Tony’s. That type of truth was something he’d never even wanted to admit to himself, let alone tell Tony about. 

“Steve-” Tony sighed, a smile lifting aros his perfect face. He thought - stupidly - that everyone was done with him and his holier-than-thou attitude and then Steve - sweet innocent Steve bringing him back just in time. 

“I wanted to tell you. I really didn’t want you to do it - and I know that it affected you - but...“ Steve gulped, shallow breaths were all he could manage, and for some reason he felt like he was admitting to some giant emotional feeling every time he opened his mouth. 

“Steve you don’t have to tell me I’m amazing, I already know that.” Tony tried to brush it off, leaning back into his desk, tapping the pencil against his hand. 

“No Tony… When you opened your eyes - when you said, ‘Please tell me nobody kissed me’ I thought for a second what I would do without you - and my future went blank. I don’t know what I would have done if I lost you too. You’re the only person I really have right now - so please. If you need me, I’ll be there. No matter  _ what _ you need.” 

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Spangles.” Tony turned from him.

“Say it again.” Steve stepped in even closer than before, knee to knee with Tony. His blues eyes stayed locked on the back of Tony’s head, begging for attention.

“Don’t make-”

“No.” 

 

Tony shifted his stare to Steve, gathering his intentions from the periphery of his vision. Steve closed the space between them, body to body. 

“Say it again, Stark.” He pressed against him, reaching the point he’d feared they’d never be able to turn back from.

“I don’t know what you’re-” Tony lifted himself to look at Steve. He  _ hated _ \-  _ detested -  _ that Steve had so many inches on him, made him feel small - irritated him so much to have to lift his eyes to the man. 

“Say it again, Tony.” He leaned forward, forcing Tony to lean back. He was desperate, His hand shifted to hold onto the desk for support. The situation was - tense - but wanting.

He opened his lips, huffing a laugh - half of one, to the moment, breathing out in a raspy voice the name Steve begged to hear again.

“Spangles?” His brows shook as the title left his lips. 

 

Steve smiled, pulling back from Tony. Arms crossed, head down, the man knew how to look good and that was becoming more apparent with every turn. 

“Thanks Stark.” He turned stopping once Tony’s hand grabbed his shoulder. 

“Why did you want me to say that?” He pulled, trying to get Cap to turn back and face him. 

“I like it. I like when you call me Spangles - I like when you call me Soldier. I like when you - call me… I like hearing your voice say anything to get my attention.”

“What?” Tony’s chuckled, not realizing the  _ type  _ of attention Steve was talking about and simply brushing it off as their strange but very functional friendship. 

“Tony -” Steve shook his head moving towards him again. “I like when you want my attention.” 

“I don’t think you really do - because I want it all the time,” he laughed and turned from Steve, again, trying to ignore the tension between them. Ignoring it was harder to do when Steve grabbed his wrist. 

He looked down at Steve’s hand and then up at him, that same conflicting feeling coming in. Something told him to run, something told him to stay.

“Tony-” 

“Soldier.” He chuckled, again, trying to brush off the tension - which wasn’t working. Steve watched the nervous tension creep over Tony’s face.

“Again.” Steve moved in, closing the space yet again, inches from Tony’s face. 

“Soldier,” Tony tried to have confidence, but the small waves of air in his voice made it too obvious that he was clearly not in control of the situation. His gut tightened, lips shook, breathing shifted to more gasping than breathing. 

“Mr. Stark.” Steve knew that was Tony’s weakness. He loved soaking in the limelight about his status, believing he deserved the respect that came with who he was, which of course, he did.

Tony’s lips parted, a wet, pink tongue danced across them for just a moment. Steve’s eyes were drawn by the movement, and he moved in a bit closer, waiting, and praying for Tony to say it again, and again, and again until he stopped him, until the desire and lust became too much to bear. 

“...Soldier.” He brought his stare to Steve, feeling his heart racing in his chest, the rest of the room becoming invisible at the situation they were in. 

“Mr. Stark.” He smelled the scent of coffee on Steve’s breath, closing his eyes to take in the scent of the man before him. Their eyes locked, both insecure but confident.

“Soldier.” Tony hadn’t realized it, but his hands hands had moved up Steve’s chest, and held tight to his shoulders, his legs had even parted, and Steve stood between them, fitting perfectly. 

His hands trailed up from Steve’s shoulders, grabbing onto the roots of his hair, holding tight as the man pressed into him. He had a thought - just for a moment, a sort of what-are-you-doing-this-is-Cap moment? But it vanished as soon as Steve’s hand trailed against his stomach. 

He shivered. It had been months since anyone had even remotely touched him, and he craved the intimacy like nothing else in his life, the care and concern of others, someone to want him - and he’d never thought Steve would be that one. 

With his hand over Tony’s belly - the rest of the world faded into nothing. Steve wanted to taunt him again, wanted to say Mr. Stark one more time - just to hear Tony call him Soldier. He wasn’t even sure why that name made him tingle the way it did, or why Spangles made him feel the same way - but they both  _ worked _ . 

“Come on Soldier - don’t tease.” Tony’s breath came out hot on Steve’s neck. Raspy and wanting. Tony talked a big game but was really too nervous to make the first move - he’d never even thought about sleeping with a man - or being in a relationship with one. 

But had Steve? He was raised in the 30’s, fought in the 40’s, they didn’t… approve of that sort of thing, right? That one thought could ruin the situation, it Tony suspected he was being played the fool - their intimacy would unravel.

“Mr. Stark…” Steve pressed into Tony. his worry of it being a joke faded in an instant. Skin to skin, they both  _ needed _ it. 

“Steve -” He was cut short. Steve nibbling at his neck, sent shivers up and down his entire body. He clung to Steve, rolling into him at every touch and press of their bodies. 

Why did Steve do this - what was his end game? Was it just the need for sexual release because god knows he needed it - they both did. But were the feelings genuine, did he  _ want  _ Tony or just need to sex? 

“Fuck me Spangles.” Tony was in literal shock at what he said. Eyes wide, he didn’t let Steve pull to look at his face though he could tell the man wanted to. 

“Don’t you say it Spangles, don’t you dare.” Tony was practically groaning.

“Language.” Steve let out a chuckle, pulling away as Tony’s grip loosened so that he could see the nervous man he’d created. 

“I’m sorry I don’t-”

“Say it again, Stark.” Something was off about Steve - he had this confidence about him - which not to say he didn’t always but he was out alpha-ing Tony - which was odd.

“I don’t even know why I said it in the first place.” Tony kept his eyes anywhere but on Steve - his hormones were already raging and one look at the jawline and he’d be done. 

“Come on, Tony.” Steve pressed into him, lifting his head up to meet his gaze. He sort of enjoyed making such a confident man weak in the knees. 

“Fuck me. Fuck me Spangles, fuck me until I can’t breath.” Tony kept his eyes on Steve, faking confidence. 

Steve fought hard not to blush - he had a feeling Tony needed to be vulnerable and feel as though he was being judged. He needed to be exposed for once in his life, knocked down from the high tower, and down with the rest of the world. 

Steve wasn’t sure if taking the leap was a good idea, though. But with Tony’s needing and wanting eyes it was hard to really weigh in on anything with logic. Hormones were ablaze and he wanted it just as bad as Tony did - if not more. He had come to the realization that he would do anything for Tony, so it was no news to him that he was falling for the guy - hard. 

What interested Steve was that he liked hearing Tony talk like that - loved hearing that desire in his voice, the shake and tremble as he fought so hard to keep himself in check, not really wanting to give in but not having the energy to make the ‘right’ move. Neither did Steve. 

Sex usually wins out - inhibitions are lowered, vulnerability seeps in, feeling desirable - and next thing you know you’re tangled up in bed taking in the sweet scent of someone else. 

 

Steve could tell without a doubt that Tony was not going to make the move - if any move. He was shocked into submission at the words Steve inspired him to say - things he would usually have heard from some floozy. Leading was always Cap’s strong suit, but sex - the guy was a virgin (assumably) - barely even really had a lot of kissing to go on (again, assumably). 

But still with Tony everything came natural - and aggressive. Tony pulled him in, and he felt the erection that had been building the moment he had been called Spangles, press against Tony. He wanted to ask Tony if it was ok, that they were crossing that barrier - if taking that leap was a good idea, but when he saw the pleasure sweeping over Tony’s sweet face - he couldn’t. He didn’t want to ask anymore - he didn’t care - all that mattered was making that man feel again. 

So Steve pressed into him, forehead to forehead. He watched as Tony’s lips parted, took in the look as Tony grabbed onto his hands to hold him as he ground against him. Every couple of rolls Tony’s lips would part a bit more and a more audible moan would release into the workshop. He was still scared - and Cap could tell, he would loosen his grip, trail his hands up Tony’s torso, back down, tug on his pants a bit onto to be rejected. 

Not that Tony didn’t  _ want _ it. He was just scared - scared that it would ruin things between them, scared that he’d fuck up a good man like Steve - he had a toxic tough. But Steve wasn’t going to give up. If anything he’d get even more aggressive over Tony. Tony wasn’t truly capable of keeping up with Steve without his Iron Man, not to say he’d force Tony, more persuade. 

Steve pulled Tony’s hands up, guiding him to wrap his arms around his shoulders. Cap shifted his hands, trailing up and down Tony’s body watching as his face scrunched at the pleasure seeping all over him. Teasing was his best option - building up the lust until it would finally cascade into an explosion. 

Tony had responded to the aggression more than Steve was expecting, and rolled to meet, him, wanting more than ever for Steve to finally kiss him, instead of taunting him with the idea. And when the man’s face was closer, as he huffed hot breath into Steve’s ear, Tony bit his jawline - his perfect jaw, and pulled it towards him. 

Steve looked down at him for a moment. The smoldering of lust in Tony’s eyes was hard to deny - he wanted to give into him. And watching as Tony licked his drying lips, he couldn’t resist tasting the sweet nectar. Steve dove in, and forgot how to breath. Their tongues danced, and swirled, tastes mending into a perfect unison, both gasped for air but didn’t want to leave the feeling behind. Steve forced himself to pull back, and looked at Tony who seemed more than ready to do anything and everything Steve wanted. 

Steve lifted him up, his hands holding Tony in the small of his back. The arch was sexualized for some reason, perhaps the way it shifted his groin against Steve’s chest - but something about his chest out and his hips dipping back - it aroused Steve. 

With a quick push Steve cleared off the desk, shifting Tony onto it. He pulled back, staring into the abyss of Tony’s beautiful eyes - they called him. Tony reached his arms around Steve’s neck, craning to taste him again, huffing and panting at the hormones raging in him. He was ready to beg, literally on his hands and knees, for Steve to devour him - and he had  _ no _ idea why. It wasn’t like him to beg - but he was so ready to. 

“Spangles -”

Steve looked down at him, fingers looping into his pants, beginning to pull them down, smirking as they got stuck on Tony’s hard shaft. 

“Sorry to intrude, Sir, but Ms. Romanov is here. She should reach your room in just a moment.” 

Steve jumped away from him, eyes wide. 

Tony’s face went flat as the door opened, his eyes were still on Steve, both too embarrassed to even know what to do. 

  
She just stared at him, head cocked, already breaking down the situation, “Really? Took longer than I thought.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to get into smut but ran out of time to write before work! So tune in tomorrow for chapter 4, maybe some bowchickawowow


	4. All Fun & Games

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Steve are interrupted by Natasha's unannounced visit. Steve is too embarrassed to admit to anything, and Tony is desperate for his affection. But with Natasha around maybe they can actually work out their feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are hints at a three way and I'm honestly not sure if I will follow through with that or not.

“Excuse me?” Tony shifted his attention, desperate to hide the erection nestled between his legs.

“Come on Tony - you don’t seriously think I don’t know about you and Steve - right?” She crossed her arms, a playful smile dancing across her lips.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about Tasha.” Tony groaned, knowing it was only a matter of time before things began to look suspicious to her - with him staying hunched over and refusing to get up, as well as the fact that Steve wasn’t even facing either of them.

“Give up the ploy, Tony. I know, ok. I’ve known from the first moment you two laid eyes on each other; there’s a chemistry you cannot break.” She moved towards him, something about her changing, her tone - more welcoming.

“And I’m sure,” she paused, eyes glancing at Steve. “That Steve is probably really confused - I’m sure parts of it goes against some of his beliefs and all - but I know he knows that things have changed and that this is acceptable and normal.”

“Natasha - It’s not -” Tony stumbled over his words, still desperate to hide the erection that was surely and slowly disappearing beneath his pants.

“Don’t worry Tony, eventually Steve will come around.” She looked over to him again, staring hard at at his hands as the grabbed at the table.  

“Steve.” She smiled through pursed lips, standing to greet him with a hug, unlike she had with Tony. He turned around to face her - no longer hiding an erection - his was gone.

“Hey Natasha…” He ran a hand through his hair after pulling away from the hug. His eyes shifted over to Tony for a moment before returning to Nat’s gaze.

“So - everything ok?” She chimed in, her voice airy.

“Yea - Tony and I were just uh - talking.” Ok, so Steve wasn’t anywhere close to ready to admit that he was having feelings _of-that-nature_ towards Tony. Made sense, she didn’t like it one bit, but it made sense.

“Oh. You’re done now though, right? Cause I’ve got some serious stuff to discuss with you both.”

“Oh?” Steve and Tony both spoke up, their eyes locking for a moment before Tony pulled away. Steve still wanted him, terribly, and his subtle movements weren’t helping him disprove Natasha’s suspicions.

“I need a place to stay - some things got really rough for me, and I’m kinda needing a place to hide out for a while - I don’t want to give you any details because I don’t want there to be any problems because of me - but -”

“You can stay here as long as you want.” Tony cut her off, finally standing from his bent over sit. He looked at Steve, “Make me some coffee, would you?” He gave him a wink, tugging Nat along with him out of the room.

“I’m not your housekeeper, Stark!” Steve called out, but of course, he still went out of his way to please Tony.

 

Down the hall, he could hear murmurs of words but they were too inaudible for him to even guess what the two were discussing, and perhaps he was ok with that - the secrets.

 

“How long have you known?” She leaned over the table, her voice hushed so much that Tony was more reading her lips than anything else.

“I don’t know - for a while I think. I've just been too stubborn to do anything about it. But I honestly - I don’t think he's ready either.” He groaned, hands rubbing up and down his face.

“Don’t push him, you know he’ll run.” She sighed, reaching out to hold Tony’s hand. “You know - I’ve seen this coming for a long time. You two make each other so much better. All I can say is that I support you in whatever you decide to do.”

“Is that an invitation?” Tony smirked, he had to keep tensions down - and sexual jokes were his best way of doing that. He was scared to be serious, scared to actually mean something to someone, scared to exist without judgement.

“Shut up, Tony.” Her smile was so warm, even as she uttered those somewhat annoyed words. She leaned back in her chair, hearing Cap’s soft steps as he made his way down the hall to them. He stopped just a bit away from the door, wondering if Tony knew he was there. He was curious to know what they were talking about - if it was him, what had happened, what Tony wanted to happen.

“What? Could you imagine that? I mean, what if it was like - the three of us?” Tony gave a laugh, somewhat intrigued by the idea of taking her on with Steve. The thing about Tony was that he didn’t necessarily _care_ what parts they had - though he most frequently founds himself attracted to women - if they interested him enough to keep him active in conversation, or appealing enough to keep him interested enough to pretend they peeked his intellect, then they were game.

“Not even once.” She brought her hard stare to him, arms crossed, foot up on the table, pushing the chair back so that she rested on only two legs.

“Swear?” He leaned in, whispering so quiet she could barely make the word out.

 

She paused, looking down for a moment before bringing her eyes back up to Tony’s. “How about we play a game?” She leaned over the table, fingers tapping against it in rhythmic motions. “Never have I ever?”

“Sounds fair to me.” Tony stood, and walked his way through the room, reaching into a small cabinet in the corner to pull out a tray of shot glasses and a nice bottle of Grand Marnier Whiskey.

“Bringing in the big guns.” She chuckled, enchanted by opening up to someone other than Clint - who lately had his own issues. "I like." 

“I like to treat my friends to good things.” Tony chuckled, setting the tray down on the table. Natasha was still very aware that Cap was hanging outside the room, and was hoping he'd see the fun side of things. She was hoping it would help draw him in - hell maybe even get him to play.

“Ok, you first Tasha.” Tony nodded at her, pouring the shots.

“Hmm… Never have I ever wanted to see Steve naked.”

She swallowed, enjoying the tingle that spread across her throat. She watched as Tony, with a hesitant hand, lifted the small glass and took it down in a quick swish.

“Details-” she smiled, setting the glass down.

“It happened when he first moved in…” Tony smiled, pushing the glass between his hands like a hockey puck as his eyes gleamed at the memory.

“He had gotten lost - and I don’t remember what he was looking for- or where he was going, I just remember hearing him getting frustrated. I came rolling out of my workshop, and looked him over. He was sweaty from working out and it just popped into my head…” Tony’s voice faded, and he lifted his eyes to her, smiling. "It was awkward."

“My turn,” His smile turned into a smirk, eyes narrowing on Nat’s. “Never have I ever thought I could be a homewrecker.

“Low blow man, low blow.” She shook her head, and took another shot, staring at Tony, knowing exactly where it was going.

“The thought crossed my mind _once._ In Budapest. We were hiding out together in some crummy, motel for sleaze bags. It was _freezing_. I was shivering like mad, and so was Clint - we decided cuddling would be the best to not risk losing our limbs. It was when he actually pulled me in and I felt warm… that for a second I thought that I could actually make something with him work out - but he’s married and has a family - and I will NOT take that.”

“That’s good of you Nat, really - the thought came in and you said no.” Tony held his glass to her, “I’m not saying I ever did that too, but cheers.” Tony winced as the burn filled his throat, nothing he wasn't used to, he actually craved the tingle from time to time. Borderline alcoholic, but he did his best to keep in check. 

“Never have I ever - wanted to have a threesome.” She analyzed his eyes, watching his pupils react at the sheer shock of the question.

He drank.

“I’ve definitely thought about it a couple times - I mean - this is me, so it’s not all that shocking, right?” His lips pursed, like an instinct to hide that he was uncomfortable with the direction of the game. 

But Natasha knew what she was doing would eventually lure Steve into the room, and she was more than pleased when he took the opportunity of strange tension to make his entrance, wondering if it would shatter upon him seating himself at the table.

“Hey what’s going on?” He smiled, looking more at Tony than Natasha. He had pulled up to the table, leaned back in his chair and tapped his fingers against the table, making a repetitive beat.

“Playing a game,” She nudged him, “It’s a drinking game - if you’re sitting, you’re playing.” She pushed a shot his way, wondering if he would do it - how much he’d want to know and how far he’d go to get his answer.

“Never have I ever wanted to kiss Natasha.” He dove in, without issue, and watched as Tony downed another shot. He kept his eyes on Tony, timid about taking the shot. But Steve downed it, with a quick throw of his head.

“Never have I ever wanted to sleep with Natasha.” Tony locked his eyes on Steve, taking a drink. Steve shifted his eyes to Natasha.

“Look what you did." Steve shook his head, laughing.

“I like where this is going.” Natasha gave a laugh. She knew that the alcohol would have no affect on Steve, whatsoever. Thanks to his body burning through calories at such an extreme rate the alcohol would be burnt up by his system before his stomach even had a chance to really register it'd been there in the first place. 

“Never have I ever fantasized about sleeping with any of my teammates.” They all drank at her question, small eruptions of giggles cascading the room.

“Steve -” Tasha nodded at him, smiling, gesturing towards Tony.

“Never have I ever-” Steve paused, moving into the table, eyes staring at Tony. He couldn’t think - he couldn’t stop himself from smiling, couldn’t stop himself from playing footsies with Nat under the table, and couldn’t stop himself from imagining Tony wiggling beneath him. It wasn't the alcohol he was drunk off, though. It was the room, the playfulness, the serenity of the moment. It felt so right.

“Come on-” she nudged him, forcing his attention to turn to her.

“Never have I ever wanted to sleep with someone one at this table.” He questioned himself, screaming in his head to shut up, saying it was over a boundary.

 

They all drank.

 

And there was a long, long pause, what felt like a year, but was really a couple minutes of them all just splashing around more shots, all too insecure to talk about what it all meant.

“Why don’t you?” Tasha finally blurted it out - and by the look on her face - wide eyed and mouth pursed, she hadn’t exactly _meant_ to.

“Sleep together?” Tony chuckled, “That feels like a giant no-no.” He looked over to a red flushed Cap, smiling at the dazed look on his face.

“She’s right - why not do it?” He bit his tongue after spouting it out. Was alcohol his enemy or his friend? He knew he wasn't drunk, though.

“Guy’s - you can’t be serious.” Tony was tipsy at best - he wasn’t quite at the same level they were - but he also drank a lot - and a lot more than usual, recently.

“Never have I ever seen someone masturbate in public.” Tony slipped it in - hoping to change the subject.

“Drink to that.” Tasha lifted her glass and took it down, exhaling through gritted teeth as she felt the burn. Steve didn't drink, kept his eyes on the glass. 

Tony stared at him for a long moment, eyes narrowing as he looked the man up and down. It was like Steve had forgotten the situation they’d found themselves in - and he was starting to wonder if Steve even really wanted him or if it was just release he was seeking.

Tony dropped his gaze from Steve and to the table. “Are you looking for fun - or… something more?” He brought his shifty gaze back up to meet Steve’s glowing eyes. Tony was definitely feeling it - but Steve looked as if he was more sober than ever.  Tony kept his eyes on the small shot glass he held tight between his fingers, praying Steve wouldn’t accept the advance he had been given. Hoping he would see the want in his eyes.

“Don’t you think it’ll be weird?” Steve leaned into Tony, pushing away the distraction of Tony’s shot glass.

“How do you mean?” He kept his eyes off Steve, knowing what would happen if he looked at the man - he couldn’t hide the pain much.

“If I did that after - What we did was..." His voice trailed off, and he pulled back - feeling as though Tony wasn’t aware of his true feelings for him. He stared down at the table.

“I don’t care.” Being in the ice for 70 years wouldn't chill him as much as those words.

 

Steve sat for a moment, eyes trying hard not to tense as the emotions became unbearable. His attempt at love was rebuffed, and Tony was expressing a huge lack of interest in the man - and the conversation he’d overheard was a distant memory. Hidden behind the pain was anger, and he focused on it, drawing it forward until his deep blue gaze snapped onto Tony.

“Of course you don’t. You just keep people around to use them. You’re a son of a bitch, Tony.” Steve stood, his chair sliding back before it slammed onto the floor. The marble made a strange vibrating sound as the wood snapped against it. He left the room in a hot flash and stormed down the hall, towards his room.

Steve was just as fragile as Tony was when it came to his emotions. They were both just as fragile as any human was when they desired emotional connection. Tony’s problem was that he was really bad at conveying things. He was either shut off completely, or just didn’t know how to explain things properly.

Tony was frustrated, Steve was frustrated, they were both frustrated - for different reasons.

Tony couldn’t handle just leaving the discussion where it was. He stood, and with a deep breath and another shot of whiskey. He floated down the hall and towards Cap’s room. He stood at the door, breathing so heavily his nostrils flared at every inhale. He trembled a bit, hand reaching for the doorknob.

His hand fell onto the metal, loose, barely really holding it at all, and he pressed into the door, hoping to hear through the wood.

It was useless, he heard strings of letters, but couldn’t make out any actual words. So instead he pulled back and pushed the door opening, starting on his rant before even looking at the scene.

“You know you don’t get to act like the better man in this situation, Rogers! You want to sleep with Tasha then just do it! But don’t go putting the blame on me because you’re just wanting to whore around!”

 

The room was silent,  and Steve gawked at Tony and his outburst. He stood and moved away from the small book that rested on his bed. He didn’t say anything. He just stared at Tony, his brows knitted high on his forehead, forcing lines that didn't usually show. He looked Tony over, his eyes softening as he realized what he'd said was completely out of line. Tony was hurting, and it was his fault.

"Tony - I don't want Tasha." He grabbed Tony’s hand and tugged him along towards the bed, a soft smile resting on his lips. He nodded down to the book he'd left abandoned, glancing back at Tony as his dark eyes fell over the pages.

The first page was a drawing of Tony. A _really_ good one.

“Did-Did you draw that?” Tony looked up at Steve, his eyes wide from the similarity. He couldn’t believe it - it looked so _real_. He sat himself on the edge of Steve's bed, eyes taking in every stroke that rested on the beautifully white sheet. 

“I drew it last night.” Steve reached down and pulled the sketchbook up. It was leather bound, heavyweight paper, on the cover it read, “A man from the past.”

“Steve, it’s…. It’s amazing.” Tony 's fingers turned the pages, finding more and more drawings of himself, others, inanimate objects, just everyday things Steve had come to pass by at some point. Looking at all the drawings, staring in awe at the life-like quality, absorbing every stroke, he felt himself becoming overwhelmed with the gift Steve had. 

“I’m glad you like it.” Steve sat beside him, looking over at Nat as she slid into his room.

“I love them…” He ran his fingers over the pages, his eyes shifting to Steve. “They’re beautiful.” He had never been so open and sappy about things - but with Steve it was easy, like he couldn’t help but reveal it.

“It’s hard to impress you.” Steve chuckled, softening his voice to a hushed whisper, his eyes still on Tony's face. He couldn't imagine that he'd really made him look so baffled.

Tony brought his gaze to Steve's a delicate smile that was so subtle it was nearly impossible to see, “Not when it comes to you.” 


	5. Loves Ache

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some things are better left unsaid, don't you think?

The scene-let in Steve’s room played out about as cliche as could be expected. Tony kept scanning over the pages, they said some cute and sappy things back and forth until the silence finally registered in Steve's ears. To his delight, it was caused by a slumbering Tony - which was great because the man never slept enough.

Carrying Tony to his room was a bitter sweet moment. Steve always felt the need to protect Tony, from the world, from anything, from everything, felt as if he were his guide. Which was in itself a ludicrous though. Steve was the one hurled into the future, at a loss for words upon arrival. It was interesting, to say the least, that he found himself being so protective of his "competitions" son. Perhaps, to him at least, that was why. He was Howard's son. Tony would have been in Steve's life regardless of if he'd been frozen or not. Of course, if he hadn't, he would have been a very, very, old man.

Steve was finding himself tangled into immoral (or rather sinful) thoughts of Tony. And worst of all for him, was his brain was rationalizing the hell out of it. He couldn’t really find a reason as to why it shouldn't happen. If he felt that way - even if it was 'unnatural ' - he had the feelings and knew eventually - he would act on them. So, he asked himself why he left Tony alone, to sleep by himself, in a bed fit for 10. He didn't have an answer, and wanted more than anything, to have laid in bed beside him.

“Steve?” He had been so preoccupied drawing the lines on the page below him that he hadn't heard or remotely noticed Tony standing in the doorway.

“Tony?!” He stood up, more or less jolting as he did so. Tossing the book down on the bed, his eyes caught Tony. They were so different, but so similar. Two sides of the same coin, for lack of a better analogy.

“I just wanted to know if you would be joining Tasha and I for breakfast.” The air was thick with discomfort. The white elephant in the room was prancing about like a show animal at a circus. Neither one looked at it, each pretending it didn't exist. They weren't good at acting.

“I’m going to actually go for a run I think - thanks.” Steve pulled his attention from Tony, his hands rubbing up and down his sweats, trying to push away the clamminess in his hands.

“Please?” Tony kept his eyes on Steve. His hands had retreated to a strange and somewhat shielded positing. Fingers tangled together, blocking his chest in anticipation of even more rejection.

“What?” Steve wasn’t trying to me snarky. He was surprised at Tony’s response. The man wasn’t one to say please, or sorry, or thank you, or really have manners at all. He was the kind of guy to look at an out stretched hand as if it were some alien artifact - or disease.

“Come on, Steve… Don’t.” Tony's fingers tightened, white knuckled.

“You did just say ‘Please?’ right?” He narrowed his eyes on Tony, moving towards him. Tony had avoided really looking at him up until then. He didn’t want all those hormones to come rushing back in. Which they did, as soon as his gaze met Steve's.

Seeing him there, Steve, with his tight tank, loose sweats, muscles - Tony couldn’t help but think about what had happened in his workshop. He had been so consumed by his realization of feelings for Steve that any look at the man and he was thrown into a vortex of late night xxx thoughts. And sometimes they took hours to clear out.

“Yes.” Tony looked disheveled again, eyes all soft and wanting, pulled away from Steve. He couldn’t bring himself to look at him again - not after taking in the sweet sight just moments before. Seeing him from the periphery was hard enough - the man literally made him weak in the knees.

“Are you sure that we don’t need to… talk?” It was hard for both of them, the situation. That strange romance they were both too stubborn to actually talk about fluttering around them, begging to be acknowledged.

“It’s just breakfast, Spangles.” Tony bit his lip as the word left his mouth. He hadn’t intended to say it - not in the way that it came out at least. It was always taunting, flirtatious, and almost conveyed a sense of disrespect. And of course Tony always meant it that way - but after Steve telling him how the word made him feel - Tony was trying his hardest not to use it. Fear of entering into another uncomfortable situation.

It didn’t seem to upset Steve though, not the way it had the day before. It didn’t make him all huffy and raging with hormones, it hadn’t even seemed to register - because it hadn’t - at all. Steve was too busy staring over at his desk, where sheets of artwork had been left spread about. Charcoal had coated a lot of the table. It was in desperate need of a good wipe down. But his eyes were locked onto something that had brought a twinge of red to his cheeks.

Tony.

He rushed to the table, grabbing the largest blank piece he could find. It was covered, whatever beauty it was, was then hidden beneath a stark and blinding white sheet. Tony was a little hurt. He wanted to see every side of Steve, he was sort of ready to take the leap - at least more so than Steve.

“Steve you don’t need to be embarrassed… You can show me,” Tony’s instincts took over. His desire to feel a closeness with Steve was hard to ignore, and he moved towards the drawing, only to find an aggressive Steve standing in front of him. He lifted his eyes just the bit he needed to to look up at him. He wanted to fight against Steve, but backed off, hands up, nodding into submission. Pushing him would get their relationship nowhere, fast.

“Thank you.” Steve took in a deep breath, letting out a soft sigh, feeling somewhat guilty that he kept pushing Tony away. “Maybe -” Steve started, pausing as he looked over Tony. “Maybe later we can - talk…” He pushed passed him, not really wanting to wait for an answer. They needed to talk, almost had to talk to discuss when and if and what - but he wasn’t really even sure of what he was thinking.

Steve must have trusted Tony. Leaving him alone in a room where he'd just moments before asked to see something Steve had poorly hidden. Tony could have easily walked to the desk and pulled back the sheet, seeing whatever artistic piece rested below it. But he didn't. He kept his eyes on it, staring, wishing to see Steve's inner beauty - more so than any artwork in the world. But, he moved towards the table, wondering if Steve actually wanted him to look. He desperately wanted to know what was hidden beneath the sheet, and as his fingers grazed the paper, he wondered if Steve was watching, if he knew that he wanted to see it so bad. But he didn’t lift the sheet, against all odds he actually reflected a sense of self control and left the room staring back at the dim lit desk until the door slid closed.

 

“Awe, no Cap?” Natasha whined as she set an empty third place for where Cap should have been sitting.

“He’s working out - you know gotta keep those muscles firm for the fans.” Tony poked at the eggs before him. Natasha was a great cook, and he often wondered what she’d be like as a mother. There were some things no amount of training could change - and motherhood was one of them.

“Have you ever wanted to settle down?” He blurted out the inner thought, having no real expectations of getting an answer.

“That’s a bit of an odd, early morning question.” She shook her head, nibbling at a piece of bacon.

“Sorry - I was just… I mean you just come across as a really loving woman.” Tony sighed, a soft and nearly fragile smile lifting to his lips.

“I wanted to once… With -” She took a sharp breath, knowing that admitting a fleeting dream would concrete the reality it could never come. “Bruce… But then he…” She shook off the urge to cry, she still loved him.

“It’s ok Tasha…”

“It’s not - but I know.” There were just some things words couldn’t fix. People didn’t want to hear that they would eventually feel better, they didn’t want to know that someday they would no longer feel those feelings for that person - they wanted the misery, they wanted the pain because it reminded them of the love they had, and how strongly it bonded them.

But for Natasha, the wounds hadn’t even begun to heal, she refused to let them. She refused to accept that Bruce left, that he assumed she’d be safer with him gone - which he was right about. She couldn’t defeat him - and he could hurt her, whether or not he meant to. That was why he left, and that was why it hurt so much. He didn't trust himself. And she trusted him with her everything. They were all falling into a pit of black, darkness consuming them all in an eternal black hole - no light, no hope.

“The people who made me into this… When I was a child... My sparring partner... I had gotten really close to him…and they said, ‘When love runs for love’s sake it leaves nothing but lovers ache.’.” She paused, wiping away a few stranded tears.

“That’s uh - inspiring.” Tony was useless in the situation. He wanted to help, to reach out and tell her what she knew and didn’t want to hear, but he didn’t even know how to say it properly. He was in the same boat as her, however tipping it was. At risk of losing love.

“It stuck. I believed it for a long time. I avoided love at all costs… And then when I meant Clint -” She paused, forcing out an awkward sighing laugh. “I had those feelings again and I just - when I found out he had a family… it was sort of soul crushing. And then Bruce.” The waterworks came pouring out. And Tony did his best to comfort her, holding her hand. It was all he could do. It was all he knew how to do. Keeping his mind on her issues instead of his own, instead of realizing that he'd lost the same romance and knew exactly how she was feeling.

“Don’t let him go, Tony.” She brought her eyes to him, tears falling down her face. “For God’s sake, don’t you dare let him go.” She was so hurt. He wanted to hate Bruce, and part of him did, but only for hurting her - only for not trusting that they could protect each other, somehow. It wasn't fair. Nothing in their lives had been fair. They ran the risk of making poor choices in the heat of battle because of love. Did their best to fend it off at all costs, but sometimes they failed.

 

 

Steve stepped into the room, looked at her, and then at Tony. Nothing needed to be said, they all just knew .

“Can I have the pepper?” Steve seated himself, it felt like home again.

 

Nightfall came quick that day, partly from the clouds, and partly from the fact that winter was approaching. Steve had tried to push off meeting with Tony, tried to come up with an excuse to not have to see him, but continually came up empty and finally gave in and made his way towards Tony’s makeshift workshop on the residential level.

“Cap, that you?” Tony had barely heard the footsteps and leaned back in his chair to see Steve approaching. He tossed a ball up into the air, spinning it with every throw.

“Ok. We need to talk.” Steve moved to him, grabbed him by the arm and began to pull him from the room. The ball thudded to the floor. Tugging Tony was easy, he usually took direction well - physical direction at least. And especially outside the iron man suit - he was so easy to just move.

“I know - but why do we have to-” Tony was cut short as Steve shoved him into his bedroom, locking the door behind. “JARVIS, no one in or out unless absolutely a life or death emergency, ok?”

“Very well, Captain.” As much as Steve didn’t like the idea of Tony having video and audio evidence of literally every little thing, he had to admit that JARVIS came in handy - a lot.

“Sit.” Steve pointed towards the bed, moving across the room towards his sketching desk. He pulled back the giant white sheet that had hidden the image from Tony. Hunched over, he stared at it, and Tony could tell he was nervous about showing him.

“Steve-” Tony wanted to stand, but assumed sitting would make Steve feel more in control.

“I…” Steve paused, picking up the giant sketch paper. “I drew this after you told me about that dream you had -” He turned the paper towards Tony, it was so real .

Tony looked it over, and over, and over, and his face went white, almost like a ghost. He couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, he just saw flashes of Steve striking him, over and over, and over, and screaming with rage, slamming Tony into walls, until he passed out. Visions of Steve tying him up and gagging him, drowning him only to revive him and do it again. He was so violent.

 

“Get rid of it.” Tony’s words were harsh, he pushed against the drawing and stood up. Looking at Steve was impossible, he couldn’t even look in his direction.

“I - I did it… didn’t I?”

“I don’t know… I can’t remember.” Tony had to admit that he didn’t remember everything that had happened during that fight with Bucky. All he did know was that Steve escaped with Bucky, and that he had blacked out and just attributed it to being so angry with Steve and with Bucky for what they did.

And that’s when he began to hate himself. ‘How can you have feelings for a man that lied like that to you?! He knew what his friend did - to your parents! And he didn’t tell you!’ Tony moved his eyes to Cap, finally, taking in the pain on his face.

“I know you don’t remember doing it - but just because you don’t want to have done it, doesn’t mean you didn’t, Steve.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eh I'm sorry the chapters seem so fast to read, but they take like 30-45 minutes to write depending on inspiration!


	6. Finding Balance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tasha and Tony have a strange heart to heart.

Things got rough. Steve packed up. Tony didn’t fight for him to stay, and Natasha was angry with them both. Things were falling apart - and the only one trying to save them was the one who couldn’t. But she fought and fought like hell to. 

“Steve please.” She kept fighting with him over his bags, bringing them back into the house, literally going back and forth with him on it. 

“I’m not having this conversation Romanov.” He had reverted to last names. It was something he did when he was getting too stern for his own good. But there was only so much arguing she could do. 

“I’ve hurt the people I care about and I’m just not doing it again.” He threw the bag down, looking at her sparkling green eyes. He had never noticed how pretty they were before then. 

“Tash - I can’t.” He shook his head. He felt  _ horrible _ about leaving. His emotions were eating away at him. But he had hurt Tony, and he was afraid he would hurt her too if he stuck around. It was for the best, but all she thought was - another failed attempt at normalcy. 

She did well to hide the fact that she did want to live a somewhat normal life - who wouldn’t? Considering the mess they’d been through - of course she wanted a place to go home to, knowing people there loved her. But it was all being torn away, again, and she was losing her mind over it. 

And Tony, he acted so nonchalant about it all. He watched from the peak of the tower, looking down as she argued for Steve to stay, watching her like she was a bug. 

“Please, Steve? Please, don’t do this… I already lost one man in my life.” She grabbed his hand, her eyes welling with tears again. Inside the towers, being vulnerable was one thing, but out in daylight, with dozens of people walking around - that was new. 

“I’m sorry, Tasha… This is hard enough.” He finally managed to tie down his bags to the back of his bike. He kept his eyes away from her, taking in a deep breath. “This is going to be for the best… Trust me.” 

“Yea, just like Bruce leaving was for the best, right?” She shook her head, anger coming to the front of her mind when her desperate attempts to save her family failed. 

It hurt him that she was hurting, but he had to leave, and with a quick kick, he did, drove off on the motorcycle, leaving them behind. 

 

Nothing ever stayed. 

 

“Do you want me to leave?” She slipped into Tony’s office, watching as he moved away from the glass wall, hands in his pockets. He didn’t speak, but shook his head. 

They both failed. They both wanted something and couldn’t have it - they only had each other left, out of everyone important in their lives, they were the only two. 

“Do you think he did it?”

“My heart’s gone.” 

“That’s a little dramatic don’t you think Tony?” 

“No I mean it.” He pulled his shirt up, showing her his bare chest. Something glowed beneath the surface of his skin. “This is tech, and it’s not my tech.” He looked down at it. “There’s something in me, and I don’t know how it got there.” 

“What?” She moved towards him, fingers trailing against the contraption. “It’s - It’s?” She pulled back, eyes narrowing on him. 

“It’s a fake heart.” 

“How is that even possible?!” She couldn’t keep her hands off of it, trying to figure out when, where, and how, not to mention why it had happened. 

“I don’t know… The only thing I can think of is that - Steve must have cut through my suit - and must have pierced my heart - and maybe - I don’t know, S.H.I.E.L.D. got me somehow? Replaced my heart with this reactor… All my arteries - they all have micro reactors.” 

“What happens if there’s a EM pulse?” 

“I’ll probably die.” 

“Does Steve know?” 

“Are you kidding me?” Tony literally scoffed a laugh at the idea. “He’s the one that did this to me, he’s already beating himself up over it - you think I’d tell him about this?” 

“Tony - you could die. We  _ have _ to get you another heart.” She pulled away from him, pacing about the room. 

“I can’t.” 

“Or won’t?!” She moved towards him. “God Dammit Tony, I lost Bruce, I lost Steve, I am  **_not_ ** losing you!”

“Tash this isn’t about me being stubborn - this is a literal impossibility.”

“The Tony Stark I know doesn’t believe in that.”

“You’re so insufferable sometimes…” He groaned. His body shifted, moved to the desk so he could hunch over at some engineering designs. 

“Think about it - please. You always find a way Tones.” 

 

Steve called him that once.  _ Tones. _ Like music. He liked music - listening to old records with Cap. Memories were hard to fight off when Natasha did those small things that reminded him of Steve. 

 

“Alright.” He couldn’t make promises because the likelihood of surviving any tech changes on the piece was slim to known - if he could even make changes at all. 

He didn’t want to lie to her, get her hopes up - he wasn’t about to hurt another person. He had made Cap leave, Bruce was gone, Clint was - ‘dealing with some stuff’ as Tasha kept putting it. She was hiding something from him, and he didn’t know how to keep her happy without knowing everything. 

He slunked down into his chair, staring up at the body scans JARVIS had done. He couldn’t think straight, his eyes kept wandering to the window, and he looked out at the city - remembering Steve’s first glance over the night sky. 

Tony was desperate to escape the pain. Desperate to escape his life. Desperate about anything and everything. He wanted freedom. He wanted Steve to come home, he wanted to go back in time to fix what he’d destroyed, however inadvertently as he had. 

He gave a huff, and tore his eyes from the glass wall, the sun was casting shadows into the room, orange painting his skin. 

“J, close the shades would you?” 

“Certainly, Sir.” 

 

The room was dark, but the sun still peeked through the edges of the windows, throwing light about the room. Tony worked, staring at the screens again, wondering if he could somehow make the Arcs resistant to EM pulses. He had a thought - and it was a long shot. 

“J…” His voice trailed off. They had completely rewired the main components of his Cardiovascular system using arc reactors and mini reactors to act as arteries. 

“Sir?” 

“Run some tests about creating literal magnetic fields around the reactors in my body.”

“Sir, I don’t believe any such implication would ever be possible.” 

“Just do it! I need to go out.” 

“Certainly, Sir.” 

 

It really was a long shot. 

  
  


“Tash -” Tony swooped into the kitchen. 

“Oh hey, shouldn’t you be working?” She turned to him, her hands still in the soapy water, rubbing at a plate. 

“Um - are you… housekeeping?” Tony cracked a smile, looking her up and down. “I never knew this side of you existed.” His chuckle was short lived as she jabbed her elbow into his side. 

“I thought I’d contribute some. What do you want?”

“I actually just remembered I have a gala to go to - and I was wondering if you would be my date?” 

“I don’t know Tony… That doesn’t seem like a g-”

“Come on don’t make me beg.” He pushed towards her, smiling. He was trying to get passed the things at hand, trying to go on and live, or trying to bury the sorrow - whichever worked first.

“Alright. But I don’t have anything to wear.” 

“This is me you’re talking to.” 

 

The Gala was clamouring upon their arrival, they were hit with dozens of questions as they exited the lamborghini Tony insisted on driving. 

“You’re such a show off,” She muttered in close to his ear, her breath hot against his cold skin. 

“The one and only.” He lifted his hands in the air, his generic, look-at-me-I’m-Iron-Man pose. Of course they screamed, and Natasha rolled her eyes, taking his arm. 

“Mr. Stark! Mr. Stark is it true you and Ms. Romanov are having a baby?” 

“Is Captain America going to return?”

“How far along are you?” 

“Are you planning on getting married?” 

 

This slipped into the doors and passed the insane press coverage. It wasn’t really that much of a surprise that they had started to piece together stories from their absence. But he didn’t think they would have gone quite  _ that _ far with the rumors. Not that the idea hadn’t crossed his mind for a moment. He could see himself with her, she kept him level - in the wierdest way. He hadn’t truly thought it through until recently. Steve had stayed in the house for 3 days after their last discussion. It was during that time that Tony essentially suctioned himself to Natasha. He believed that she would prevent him from doing anything stupid. And that was when the thought came into play. 

He imagined her showing a baby bump, being just a few months along, holding her hand over her belly, eyes gleaming as she looked at him. He had never really told anyone if he wanted a family or not - kids - hell even a dog. 

“You ok, Tony?” She leaned in, hunched down a bit, her head cocked to look up at him. 

“Yea. I was just thinking about something.” He smiled down at her, taking her back under his arm, prancing her about as though she was a prize. 

He grabbed her a drink, he grabbed himself a drink, or two, or three, lost track about halfway through the night. He could barely remember any of the actual conversations he'd been having, but he knew he would walk away making whoever he spoke to feel as though he was the smartest guy in the world - which he was. 

But being there was annoying, making nice, and waving, talking on and on and on about this, that, and the other, it was so time consuming, so tedious, so uneventful he was going mad with boredom. Also, he'd lost track of his date. His eyes scanned the room, head nodding at the man before him telling a stupid story about his granddaughter finding a bug that was indigenous to the region. That was about all Tony needed to hear before tuning out and letting his thoughts lead him to question where Natasha had been. 

He caught sight of her on the other side of the room, and rather rudely apologized to the small Asian man before him and disappeared into the crowd before him. He didn’t want to go to the gala. Not really, but he was there, and he needed to make the most of the experience. In his mind, it could very well had been his last gala.

He made his way towards Natasha, trying to reach out to her only to be interrupted and caught off guard by yet another socialite. How he hated some parts of his job, people vying for his attention - constantly. He liked the limelight, sure, but usually only when he got his way. Anyone who really knew Tony knew that he was a giant baby when he didn't get what he wanted. And he was perfectly ok with that. That's why he usually got what he wanted. 

He saw her green eyes from across the room, and an unwelcome smile lifted to his lips. Instinct. He hated instinctual responses like that. He was there with her, and the more he watched her in the room, smiling, laughing, being normal the more he wanted it. Wanted her - or so he thought. He caught himself about halfway through the idea and pulled back the reigns, eyes wide.

He forced himself to continue the conversation at hand, still unable to really draw his eyes away from her, apologizing to the group before him without even intending to,

"I apologize if I seem distracted."

"It's quite alright Mr. Stark, but what exactly is on your mind?"

"Nothing of importance." He gave them a warm and fake smile, pulling away from yet another uneventful conversation. "Please, excuse me." He nodded out of the group and made his way, again, towards Natasha. 

She had been making nice with a man that Tony was becoming increasingly annoyed with.

"And who might this fine young man be?" Jealous of a man he didn't know, over a woman he didn't own. (NOTES)

"Tony, are you -" She stopped, placing her hand on his chest. "Are you feeling ok?" She wasn't about to call him out on his unwanted possessiveness that he had absolutely no right to have in the first place, but she would put an end to it. 

"I'm fine. Mr. Ritz over here thinks he can sweep you off your feet, though. I'm not going for it." Tony looked the young man over a couple times. Pegged him for about 25, maybe a little younger. 

"Tony." Her face was flat and un-amused, green eyes looking up at him from beneath furrowed brows. 

"I'm sorry, Sir." The young man's face had gone full red, like a strawberry. "I didn't mean to offend you." His voice was so shallow and soft. Tony didn't buy the sincerity in it. He was too drunk to really believe anything. 

"Offense taken." Tony leaned into the kids face, eyes narrowing on him. 

"Tony, stop." Natasha pulled him back, sighing. "Sorry Joshua, just ignore my date, he can't resist making an ass of himself." 

That conversation did not go as planned, and all he wanted to do was answer questions he shouldn't have been asking himself.

"It's alright Ms. Romanov." The young man smiled, pulling away from the two. "I'll give you two a moment." 

"What the hell is the matter with you? You bring me here to babysit so you can get drunk?" She groaned, her voice was hushed and her lips remained in a smile as she criticized him. 

"Nothing's the matter!" He was not so able to keep calm. 

"Tony, you're going to make a scene, stop it." She grabbed his arm, fingers trailing against his shoulder as she did. "Please, I'm actually having fun." 

"I'm not trying to make a scene." He tried his best to whisper, but it was hard. 

"You're drunk..." She groaned again.

"Yuuuuuup." He smiled, poking her on the tip of her nose, letting out a soft smile before turning and walking away. 

She attempted to go after him, only to be greeted with some guests who had questions for the famous Black Widow. 

  
  


He wound up on the roof, half drunk. 

The night sky was so welcoming, and the way the moonlight beamed onto him, forcing a blue glow to take over his entire body. Not the same blue as the reactor, but something more silver, something more natural looking. And the air was crisp and clean, sharp with every breath, almost icy. It was cold. It was winter, it was probably 30 degrees, and if it had been cloudy it would have been snowing.

“Tony?” She sighed a release of stress and moved towards him. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” She grabbed at him, watching as he turned around. He was crying. 

“Tony?” She pulled him into a hug without thinking, and the glass he held full of scotch shattered against the roof. 

“I’m confused…” He sobbed into her, taking in the smell of her hair - it reminded him of roses, in mid spring, when the air was cold and crisp but life danced around everything. 

“It’s ok Tony. It’s ok.” She lied through her teeth. They were both still in desperate heartache, both wanting to be wanted, both longing for love and affection - but their jobs came first. 

“Why did he have to leave?” 

“I know… I know Tony.” She started to cry, and the bits of mascara she put on began to spread streams of black down her pale but pink cheeks. 

“I just... “ He choked out, trying to fight the sobs. “I want love.” 

“I know Tony. So do I.” She held him in, not letting him see that she had started to cry. It wasn’t fair - that they all had to leave their lives behind to defend the world - sure it was an honor but it came at such a high price. 

“Let’s go home, huh?” She tugged him along, guiding him through service areas so no one would attack them or come up with some other crazy story. 

  
  
  


“Ergh, what time is it J?” 

“11:30 AM, sir.” 

“Damn. When did we get-” he looked to his right, Tasha was laying in his bed, in his shirt, sleeping. He  _ panicked. _

Jolting up from the bed, had woken her and she looked over at him, her eyes still puffy from sleep. She gave a yawn and reached over towards him, pointing her finger. 

“Don’t get any ideas, Stark.  _ Nothing _ happened.” She rolled her neck until it cracked, eyes peering over at him. Even in the dim light of the morning that crept through the blinds the green was like a fire. 

“J, playback.” 

“Certainly, Sir.” 

 

The images popped up on the wall aside him. He flicked his hand through the air, and they sped up. He watched as Natasha guided him into his bed. She took her time to undress him enough that he could sleep comfortably. 

“I told you.” 

 

The video kept going, and he watched as she glanced over her shoulder at him as she pulled the zipper of the dress down. 

“Stark -” She growled, standing from the bed. She was in one of his shirts. Of course she was. That was so Natasha. 

“You -” He pulled his eyes from the screen. “J delete those files.” 

“Certainly. Sir.” 

 

She smiled at him, her eyes scanning over his face, trying to get an understanding of why he didn’t believe her, but trusted her and respected her not to look. 

“Thank you.” She slid passed him, heading down the hall towards the lift. She needed coffee. 

“I want my shirt back!” 

 

What was he doing? Flirting with her? Was he that desperate for love? Would he stop at nothing to feel wanted? Or did he genuinely care for her? Or was he replacing Steve? Was she the runner up? She still loved Bruce, right? What was the point of it all? LIving with her, showing her affection? She’d never love a monster like him, right? 

 

“A monster like me…” He mumbled, his eyes shifting to the screens again, looking over the only files left from the week. Steve, pressing him into the desk. “A monster like me could never be loved by an angel like you.” 

 

His teeth grit together, hard, his jaw clenching and twitching under the pressure. 

 

“Delete all videos containing Steve Rogers. Purge the system of his access. I want to forget him, J.” 

“Certainly, Sir.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a huuuuuge possibility that Tony and Natasha are going to get together for a short time. 
> 
> also this chapter felt like it was longer when I was writing it, and after rereading I was disappointed with it's length, FORGIVE ME...
> 
> Also the whole Tony 'owning' Natasha, I don't condone that type of ideal with you dating someone makes them your property, I literally just loved the way the words flowed, sue me.
> 
> I also have J say "Certainly, Sir." a lot lol


	7. Freefall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Natasha have a heart to heart about their feelings for one another. Things get heated - but then get icy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, as far as I'm aware, the avengers assumed that S.H.I.E.L.D no longer exists... right? Idk, I'm a little lost on that whole front. But in this fic, Steve and Tony know they exist because of the tech in Tony's chest, not to mention Steve is slowly remembering what had happened after Civil War... so yea.

Natasha had become accustomed to seeing Tony sloshing around a bitter scented cup nearly every day. She'd been forced into accepting it as his way of grieving over the loss of their friend - and his desired partner in life. While her distaste for it wasn't obvious, she didn't attempt to hide the annoyance she was faced with from time to time. Pouring him into his sheets after another night out, or night in - it hardly mattered; he'd wind up drunk either way - was becoming a task that was more a chore than anything. Instead of concern, she displaced it with anger, frustration and in some instances, outright disgust. 

She slipped out of his bed, having spent the night under his covers for the 3rd time in a week. She had actually gotten used to him wrapping around her in the middle of the night, almost liking the warmth he had to offer - but it was also a constant reminder of what she could never have. 

She looked him over, her shoulders heaving with a sigh. He was such a confused man, and a confusing man. He had this entitled cocky attitude - everyone looked at him like he was self absorbed and did whatever he wanted without a second thought. That _was_ part of him. Tony always got his way, and he was a child when he didn’t. But - there was a side of him only the Avengers really knew about. It was a hard side to define, to give life to, to believe in. Because half the time, the side was gone. 

On the rare occasions it showed, there would be the controversial backlash of society screaming he was only doing it for support, so his business would rake up more money. They were always so quick to assume and press prejudice on him and other's in similar positions. He was used to it. He knew that in the depths of his heart he would give anyone anything if he could. He knew that he would sacrifice things in the smartest and most plausible way - everyone deserved to go home. 

But yea, he was _selfish._

 

It made her stomach knot up. Surprisingly though, she never rushed to his aid, despite her dislike of the media's portrayal. She even constantly fought Tony, sometimes disagreeing with him because simply - he needed it. If Tony had been right without fight - a lot of the time his already fat head would’ve gotten fatter. But seeing him so broken, lying in the bed. All she wanted to do was hold him, tell him over and over that eventually he would be ok.

But she knew it wouldn’t do any good, because Tony was _Tony_. Nothing was ok until he said it was, and when it came to Steve, nothing was ever going to be ok. Not until he came home. Which Steve had absolutely no intention of doing. He couldn’t come home, not until he knew he couldn’t be controlled, not like that again, not made into a walking killing machine. He obeyed the orders without fault - he couldn’t risk hurting anyone.

“Steve?” Tony’s grumbling brought Natasha’s attention to him. She looked over him, watching as his eyes squinted, his fingers reaching for someone who wasn’t there. 'Why did Steve have to go? She thought that over and over. He hurt both of them, and they both wanted affection - but from people who were gone.

“Tony?” She nudged him a bit, her hand loosely laying over his shoulder. Her thumb grazed over his clavicle and she felt the dip - he had to have broken it at some point. She sat beside him, pulling his head into her lap so she could stroke his hair, hoping he’d wake to find her there for him. She felt a need to be close to him. She chalked it up to her loneliness but something inside kept telling her it was something else.

She hated seeing the man in pain.

 

Tony opened his eyes, but Natasha had fallen into a slumber herself. He looked up at her, looking at her lips, parted enough for small streams of breath to cascade over his face. She was going to get a kink in her neck if he didn’t move her. But he didn’t really want to. He liked seeing her face so relaxed, though he knew that she could still probably kill him if he surprised her too much, especially in her sleep.

He opened his mouth, but couldn’t bring himself to wake her. The way she held him, the way he felt laying there in her lap, the way her breath smelled, her hair, just _her._ He didn’t want to ruin that feeling of bliss.

So he stayed silent, and didn’t move, and just peered up at her, watching her body sway slightly from side to side to keep her fully upright. It was blissfully perfect - he didn’t think anything could ruin it - nothing in the world could take away his moment of happiness.

Except his phone.

With a blaring loud buzz, Natasha’s eyes snapped open, and she blinked a few times to see Tony staring up at her. He reached over to his phone without a glance, picked it up, and threw it across the room into the wall. He wasn’t about to let their morning slip away.

She stared down at him, a hint of confusion placed in her beautiful green eyes. All Tony could do was stare up at her with a half confused and half cocky look. Her brows tightened, lifting higher on her face as he shifted around beneath her. He really didn’t want to lose the moment, it felt so right.

“You broke your phone.” Her voice was like velvet in the air, soft and raspy, but smooth and calm. Tony liked it. It was seductive, calling, almost begging but not quite -  _commanding_.

“I don’t care.” His voice was low, deeper from the morning call. He kept his eyes locked on hers, inadvertently locking his hands around her wrists, subconsciously begging for the space between them to close.

Her heart skipped around in her chest like a ricocheting bullet. She could barely keep herself still - she had to tell him. If things were going the way they were going, he needed to know that nothing could _actually_ happen between them.

“Tony-” She stopped short, leaning down closer to him, she could smell last night’s alcohol still. It was repulsive - but she didn’t exactly dislike it. But she couldn’t talk, smelling him, breathing him in, she lost all focus and let him guide her down, to his lips, closing her eyes as the damp warmth welcomed her.

Her mouth dropped open with the sudden relief of it all, and Tony didn’t miss the opportunity to really get a taste for her. She was surprised, but grateful for it, diving into him almost as hard as he had into her. Before either of them knew it she had shifted around and straddled him, hands running up and down his chest as the hormonal rage grew between them. Logic was a fleeting memory, something that, in that moment, did not matter.

They were primal, instinctual, and both desired things the other could offer. So they gave in. And she pulled Tony’s shirt off, her hands idolizing the reactor hidden beneath the surface on his chest. She remembered how it wasn’t his tech - how S.H.I.E.L.D. had put it there, and how Tony was close to death because of it, but he didn’t let her sit on that thought long.

He pulled her back into him, holding the small of her back with his arm, forcing her to arch against him. She was wearing one of his shirts, again. Not that he minded, he liked that she was so comfortable. She didn’t hesitate to pull the shirt off and toss it to the side, exposing her naked body to him. She stared down at him, his eyes wanting her - it reminded her of the way he had looked at Steve - just that once - when she came in and realized what had happened.

But this look - it was for her, and only her. There was something more there, something - vulnerable. Maybe it was because Tony had opened up to her already about Steve - maybe it was because he didn’t need to - he knew she knew - maybe it was just because she was a woman - and he longed for that touch.

 

And all in an instant, she pulled the covers over her chest and shook her head, hard, and fast, so much Tony was a little worried she’d give herself whiplash.

“Tash?” He touched her naked arm, only to be pushed away.

“We can’t...” She shook her head, almost in tears from pushing him away when he was so willing to love her.

“I don’t understand…” He really didn’t, three seconds ago she was ready to ravage him and in a blink she was pushing him away.

“We physically - can’t.” She paused, taking in a deep and long breath, only to sigh it out so heavily that the room felt toxic with anxiety.

“Can you explain?” Tony wasn’t going to give up - he was sick of being led on only to be rejected. Having being left by Pepper was hard enough - then Steve - now Natasha.

“I can’t… I just  - we can’t ok?”

“I guess I really am unlovable.”

“Tony that’s-”

“Get out.” His words were cold. And they fell on her ears like daggers. She didn’t want to stop, that was the problem. She wanted to be with him so badly her heart welled in pain at the words he said. But she kept her head held high, leaving his room in silence.

 

“Just a monster no one can ever love.”

 

He was quick to anger. Not that it was unwelcome considering the rejection he was yet again faced with. He was beginning to believe without a doubt that he was truly unlovable. He threw something across the room, again. Not his phone, which he was feeling somewhat upset about destroying, but something else. It didn't matter what it was really, he just wanted to destroy something. 

Getting out of bed was harder than it had been before, mostly do to the fact that he felt like a giant sack of steaming dog shit dropped onto the lawn of the Westboro Baptist church. Yea he knew of them, hated them about as much as Steve hated Hydra goons. 

What a comparison to be made to, though. Accurate, too. He moved his hands through the air, screens showing up for him to stalk Natasha as she roamed about the tower. He knew that she would hide her emotions from the situation, because she knew he would be looking. It didn't matter, though, not really. It was decided, she didn't want to be with him, for whatever reason. 

He was still angry, though. Still wanted to break things, to create chaos to calm himself. So he grabbed fresh clothing, and made his way to the build room. Not the make shift one on the residential level, but the _actual_ build room.

It was a little dusty. 

His eyes scanned the room. Covered in cobwebs. Made him think about Natasha. Made him want to take a crack at her, but he refrained. No one would hear his cleverness anyhow. He hadn't really gone into that room since the situation happened with Bucky and Steve. After coming back from that fight, he was too emotionally scared to even want to tinker around, which for Tony was a huge red flag. 

So being down in that room brought back a lot of negative feelings. He needed to face that he didn't remember what happened, and he wasn't really sure what Steve had done to him, if anything. All he was absolutely certain of, was that Steve pissed him the fuck off; so much that they had gone several months without speaking. His entire life had completely unraveled in a time span of 3 months, and Steve had contributed to that, on a rather large scale. 

"Maybe try not falling in love with regular people." He spoke to himself, blowing off dust from one of the suits in the center of the room. MARK 144. "Jesus." 

His sigh went unheard, but conveyed a sort of disgust for himself. It was really no wonder Pepper had left him. Though he was still somewhat jaded about the whole thing, and still didn't forgive her for being so non-understanding, he could see where she was coming from. Being in love with Iron Man came with a high price. Maybe it was a price only few were really able to pay.

"Yea, definitely date other Super-people." He let out yet another sigh and started to tinker with the suit in front of him. Steve had been the only one who wasn't so completely incapable of dealing with Tony when his downward spirals came in with their gun's blazing. The man was broken. On so many levels he had become just a shell of a person. He didn't get the nickname shell head for nothing. Well that was entirely unrelated, but it was becoming more meaningful. 

He wondered why Steve was apparently the only one to see through his facade. He tried to act like what had happened to him wasn't a big deal, and that blowing up the majority of his suits had somehow rid him of all the anxiety - but it hadn't, and Steve knew that. Somehow the guy just  _knew_. Tony hated it. He hated how black and white things were when it came to Steve and him, how nothing ever seemed to surprise Mr. America. It was like Steve knew what Tony was thinking before Tony was even really thinking it. 

And the way he felt when Steve was around. The constant, fight or flight instinct. That was annoying as hell to deal with. Though the freeze was becoming the more notable choice, or maybe Tony actually wanted to be frozen with Steve. Not literally, but incapable of actually deciding whether to stay or go. It was complicated. 

"Shit!" A spurt of power surged through him and the hidden reactor lit up for a second. It was close enough to the surface of his skin that it cast visible light. His eyes shifted to the glow as it switched colors for a millisecond. He had barely noticed it, really. But the blue wasn't the same when the surge hit. It was darker, not from a loss of power, but like the chemical reaction was actually changed. 

"Stupid S.H.I.E.L.D. tech." He tapped on the reactor. "Hunk of junk." 

He had almost forgotten about the tests he'd asked JARVIS to run earlier that week, what had it been, almost 10 days? He wondered why JARVIS hadn't brought it up, most likely because it wasn't possible. He was a sitting duck in all reality. There wasn't anything he could do. He had no way of countering their tech, no way of undoing what they'd done. And he was willing to bet that whole EMP thing was a way for S.H.I.E.L.D. to keep him in check. Just like the strange serum was used for Steve to - become a more  _receptive_ soldier. 

"Fuckers." Tony mumbled under his breath, adjusting a few more things on the suit before beckoning it to slip onto him. 

He felt powerful when his tech worked out perfectly the first time - which was rarely ever. He was lucky then that it was a rare case where there were no malfunction on the first test drive.

He felt like going for a ride. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hahahaha *laughs nervously* please don't hate me... I couldn't resist pairing them together for a moment or two. Next chapters even BETTER (in my opinion)


	8. Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Silence had fallen between them, for days, but yet again Tony finds himself craving that which he cannot have.

Natasha went days without speaking to Tony. Tony went days without coming out of his workshop. He was sick and tired of his life falling apart, and she was sick and tired of not allowing herself to find love - especially when such a great man was willing to give it to her.

She was also a lot less stubborn than Tony.

 

Finally, she gave in and came knocking on his door.

 

The tap on the door came as a pleasant surprise to Tony, and he peered over at it, wondering whether or not to listen to it. He could come up with dozens of excuses to ignore it - but it felt wrong, especially when her voice cracked through the com.

“Tony, we need to talk.” In all reality she'd never expected herself to fall for someone like Tony. She was constantly battling against him with his superiority complex. To her, it was a common fact that without something or someone to fight against he would lose control of himself more than he already had. 

His heart was heavy - he missed her, missed the human contact - JARVIS was fun and all but he was still an AI, and there was no denying that. He had found himself craving contact from anyone, even if it meant tucking his tail between his legs to get it. How far he'd fallen.

“Let her in, buddy.”

Without a reply, JARVIS removed the security lock-down Tony had initiated during his temper tantrum, and she stepped inside the room. He looked her over from the periphery of his vision, wondering how many of his shirts she'd stolen. 

“What’s up, Romanov?” He didn’t actually look at her though. He kept his eyes fixed on the papers tossed about his desk, from what she could tell he was building another suit - and it looked weirdly similar to Captain America's uniform.

“We need to talk about what happened.” She took a step closer to him, her fingers fidgeting from the more than obvious nervousness she was plagued by. 

“You don’t want me. Understood. Loud and clear.” Tony was quick to assume, and constantly made an ass of himself in the process. But he was also quick to dismiss people who rejected him. He wasn't the kind to grovel at their feet and try to convince them of how great he was. Which also made him just as much of an ass. 

“I do.” Her voice rang hard on his ears. It _had_ to be a joke, at least that was what he thought. There was no way after a week and a half of silence between them, and the rejection he’d been given that she actually thought he would believe her. Even still the surprise of her 'truth' brought his dark eyes to her, looking her over with furrowed brows, a frown so hard that it was bound to create wrinkles. 

“Right. That why you said no?” He realized how nasty that sounded. He didn’t just want to sleep with her - it was more than that. But Tony had a knack for making things sound disgustingly black and white, when in reality they were as gray as gray could be. He was unskilled in persuasion, he'd always known that, that's why they had Cap. The guy had something about him that people instantly warmed up to. With Tony it was more fearful respect - which didn't end well on his behalf about 99% of the time. 

“No.” She sighed, holding her hands in a strange twisted way so that her fingers were looped together even more than before. She moved like she had practiced what she was about to say over and over. It caught Tony’s attention and he looked over at her, head cocked. 

“Out with it.” He crossed his arms, leaning his designer-clothed self back into his desk. He always did a tongue clicking thing when he felt he was about to get his way. It was a wiry smile, a cocky look gleaming in his eyes. She had grown a fondness of the look - but it still hit her too hard sometimes. 

He looked at her, watching as she pursed her lips, opening them just to close them immediately. He couldn't help but think that whatever she was about to tell him was going to be soul crushing, to either him or her. 

“I can’t have sex.” She said it with a swiftness that took Tony by surprise, but the look quickly left his face as she dove into it. 

"I told Bruce and I'm pretty sure that the thing that made him leave..." Her lips pursed, again, and her eyes had welled with tears that Tony wanted to wipe away. "Back when... They train you, ya know?" She tried to smile, forcing it because she didn't want to cry about it anymore. "It's the one thing that can become more important than any mission. So they remove the problem entirely." 

 

She stopped, wiping away at the tears that fell, her arms crossed in defense. She wasn't expecting Tony to be objective, or rude, somehow inconsiderate, not intentionally at least. But he had this way about him that people disliked. Something about the way he said things rang as criticism to them. 

 

“They… castrated you…” His voice was loud in the room - finally speaking after what felt like an eternity of silence between the two of them.

“I thought it would be cruel to - do all that stuff with you and lead you on only for you to suffer-” her voice was soft, sending guilt into the air like a gas. But he could tell she was still trying not to cry.

“Tash-” Tony couldn’t help but smile, a soft sigh escaping. She was so stupid. “You’re an idiot.” He finally said it, and watched as her pained green eyes came at him with anger.

“What?” She tightened her lips. The hurt ran deep in her, but Tony, of course, had an explanation.

“Why didn’t you say something sooner - there’s plenty of surgeons-”

“No.” Her answer was hard, flat, and stopped Tony dead in his tracks. There was no arguing with her on it - no convincing - it either _had_ to be her idea, or it wasn’t going to happen. Tony assumed, as usual, that she had a reason as to why she didn't want to be 'fixed'. 

“Can I ask why?” Tony’s voice was quiet, hushed, like a child who was in trouble but eager to play with the other children.

“If I can’t have children - I shouldn’t feel the pleasures of sex. That’s what it’s for - making a family.”

She had an odd way of seeing sex, one that completely went against what Tony believed, but he let it go - her life, her morals.

“Well…” He sighed, tapping his fingers against the glass table he'd hovered over as she told her terrible past to him.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be Tasha.” He gave her a halfhearted smile; forcing smiles had become so natural he couldn’t tell when he was genuinely happy.

“How can I not, Tony? You were so ready to give me everything I wanted and I backed out of it… I ran away.” Her head shook. She was angry with herself for what had happened, Angry that she was feeling as though she could leave Bruce behind. Angry Tony was willing to leave Steve behind. Angry for her life. Angry for feeling in love with Tony, already.

“Because - you were right.” He sighed, leaning towards her. “You were right to stop - it wasn’t love - it isn’t love - it’s lust and infatuation.” he paused, gauging her reaction. “I do love you - a lot - but…” he shook his head, eyes down, locked onto a paper clips he twisted between his fingers. “It’s not the right _kind_ of love.” He was a liar.

Her heart sank, but there was a reason he wasn’t looking at her. She didn’t know why he said it, or even if it was true - which she prayed it wasn’t. She needed love, longed for it, begged for it. She wanted a family, she wanted romance, she wanted to wake up to the same person - knowing they would always be there. She wanted Tony.

But like everything else in her life - he had slipped between the cracks.

 

Needless to say she left the room in a quick fit after that conversation. She wasn't even sure exactly what she was expecting. She had known in her gut that Tony wouldn't be able to fend off his basic desire and need for sexual contact. Maybe she just wanted someone other than Bruce to know what was going on with her. She wasn't sure if she regretted telling Tony, either. It wasn't that he rejected her for being sterile, or was it? She had no idea what to think of the man anymore. 

 

Tony's drinking - after rejecting Natasha had gotten even worse. She had to dump him into bed every night, keep his head turned so he wouldn’t suffocate on vomit. It was getting harder to deal with on her own. She called Steve. Never left messages, and he never answered. She wondered if telling him Tony died of alcohol poisoning would get his attention - but that was just cruel and she didn’t want to hurt him anymore than he already was.

Steve was the reason Tony was so close to death, and trying so hard to find a way to create protection for the arc reactor so he wouldn’t die. He had put his hands on the man in such a terribly violent way - he could never forgive himself for what he had done. Striking him down - his best friend. It was really no wonder why Steve wouldn't come. Not to mention, it wasn't Tony calling for him. 

He held that promise. If Tony needed him, he'd be there. But Tony didn't need him, Natasha did. 

Tony’s eyes snapped open, and he found Natasha slumped over in the chair beside his bed. His chest heaved - the adrenaline from his dream was physically affecting him. Soon it faded, and he caught himself staring at Natasha, wondering how uncomfortable she probably was.

She was hunched over in the strangest position, her hand had appeared to have held her head up at some point but was aimlessly floating. She was all twisted and curled up, back pinched to curve her back into herself. He was actually curious how she got like that. 

He had lied, right to her face. He _did_ love her, and he _was_ falling in love with her - but leaving Steve - it was a hard thing to consider. Even though Steve made it more than clear he would likely never return, Tony’s hope never died. He loved the man - how - he didn’t know. But he had stopped caring when Natasha had spoken to him about her feelings. He had even known that one night, what should have rendered him black out drunk, she had kissed him, and said,

“I love you.”

He didn’t stir to it, didn’t reply, didn’t even make a noise that would have suggested he was even alive. And he went a period of time having convinced himself he made it all up because of his loneliness.

She looked uncomfortable.

He couldn’t keep his eyes away from her, looking at her furrowed brows, tight lips, grouchy looking face. He needed to move her, needed to lay her in the bed. He shifted in the bed, as quiet as possible, and reached out to her, grazing her arm.

Sex was one thing - and he did want it from her - a lot of the time he’d dream of it, what she’d look like beneath him, gasping for air as she climaxed. He always told himself it would never happen - because she couldn’t have children.

But even in her slumber, she craved him. Her arms welcomed him, and allowed him to cup her up, in his arms like a bride, and place her on the bed. The covers pulled back by his hand, to envelope her in their soft warmth. He wanted to lay with her, but knew that it crossed a line they had both seemingly promised not to cross.

The temptation was daunting. And from the look on her half asleep face - she wanted him as bad as he wanted her. Their relationship was almost more delicate than his with Steve. He had a finer line to walk with her. Want and need linked so closely he couldn’t see the separation - and he couldn’t have either.

But he still crawled into the bed. She grabbed at him, pulling him close, breathing him in. ‘It’s just lust.’ He tried to tell himself over and over as her hands crawled up his shirt. He liked to taunt himself with things he couldn’t have. ‘It’s just-’ the thought was destroyed. Her hands had made their way to the recess of his boxers, and held tight onto him with such passion he felt his breath catch in his throat. Though a moan managed to slip by, and that only increased her desire to feel him.

But she had said no before. He tried to stop her, lightly pushing her hand and mumbling as if he couldn’t remember the word for ‘No’. Not that he _really_ wanted her to stop - because he _didn’t._ Not even a little. So he stopped fighting it. He let her hand hold him, tease him, move so swift he thought he’d cum right then and there only to be denied and teased until he was literally whimpering for release. Then he said it, something he _never_ thought he’d say again after Steve,

“Please.” He had whispered it into her ear, begging, his voice laced with need. He didn’t just want to feel her, he _had_ to feel her. But he felt guilty - because there was no pleasure in it for her - it would be for him. Selfish. And Steve, the man's face kept popping into his head at every turn. The look he'd given Steve was probably the same, and the look Steve had was so similar to Tasha's face it made his stomach churn. 

He was disgusting.

He had noted that Natasha must have been surprised at the outcome as well, because her hand slowed, and her eyes trembled as she looked at him. He was thankful the room was so dark and he knew she couldn't see the embarrassment on his face. He shifted his eyes from her, hoping they could avoid the conversation he felt looming. His breath was loud in the quiet room, huffing as he held back what sounded like attempted moans, because her hand still hadn't stopped. 

Silence rang in their ears, and she held his hardness in her hand, still. ‘This is so weird.’ he thought, trying hard to ignore that her hand was still wrapped around him, just so motionless. Her eyes locked on him. He heard the reactor pumping his blood like any real heartbeat, heard the pace quicken as her hand began to move away from him. Where was she going?

He had been too embarrassed at the words he said to realize she’d gotten naked in the few seconds her hand had been pulled away. But when she had pulled his hand to her, and placed it between her slightly open thighs, he had realized she was ready. And he no longer was. 

Seeing Steve's face made him want to stop, more than anything. He couldn't get those blue eyes out of his head, something about the sexual contact. What had happened to him? Was that drawing real? Did Steve - do those things? How far had it gone? What  _type_ of abuse was it? 

The questions came like an avalanche onto him, leaving him staring at her, completely unsure of what to do. 

Her hand guided him, to whatever she wanted - to whatever would make her feel any type of affection he could give. It was unfair - that they had mutilated her so far that she didn’t believe in making love - or even just raw sex. And that thought rang in Tony’s head as he teased at her thighs. He was still thinking about Steve, though. 

Some parts of her were more sensitive than any other woman he’d ever been with - and it was delightful. He could run his hand against her thigh, watch her shiver with excitement. Her lips would part now and then, and she’d bite at them to hold back a moan, only to fail and let out a more audible noise that made it harder for Tony not to crawl between her legs. He wondered how Steve would have reacted - if he were in her position. The man was so much larger than Tony that he never even though about 'switching roles' before. Not that he had much time to fantasize about it at all. 

He wondered what being in her would actually feel like. It would do nothing for her, most likely. She wouldn’t be roused by it - would probably just feel the pressure - but he wasn’t sure really. She just told him she didn’t feel during sex. It could have been a number of things - he just assumed she meant literally couldn’t physically feel anything. Where was the fun in that? Maybe that was why he kept thinking about Steve. Maybe that was why he couldn't stop assuming that with Steve things would be so much more raw. 

His stomach churned again. He was thinking of Steve while trying to sleep with Natasha. His head wasn't on straight - maybe it never was. 

 

She pulled his hand there anyway, rolling her hips to meet him halfway, making a strange huff at the sudden jolt she felt. She wanted to say something, and he could tell, looking over her eyes as she peered up at him, lips apart as he slipped in one finger, then two. It was tight, so tight he could barely even move. She tried to relax, tried to feel something, anything - but the moans had stopped. Tony tried to pull back but she whimpered, and held him there, clasping her legs around his hand, eyes begging for him to keep trying.

It wasn’t fair.

 

Eventually his arm got tired and she let him go, knowing that they had given it a go - and it wasn’t meant to happen, at least not then. Still they had an intimate moment together, and she felt closer to him, and he to her. But both wondered if it was right. They both wondered if the other felt like the runner up, second place - the well-it’s-you-or-no-one. Neither did, not really. They both knew the situation - accepted it at face value and moved passed it.

 

“I’m sorry.” The words came from nowhere, and Tony was honestly so lost in a fantasy of Steve that he was completely confused.

“About what?” He groaned, hating that he had to return to reality. He was only torturing himself though. Pretending Steve was there with him, and he was only torturing her by comparing the two. 

“Teasing you like that.” 

“I’d say you were the one who was teased.” His sigh narrated an entire book in one quick wave. Though his body language didn't help that either. It was a mix of self hatred and disappointment. Author: Tony Stark.

“Not really.. It felt good - just… not enough. If that makes sense.” She looked over at him, watching as his eyes trailed about the ceiling. She had a feeling he was still lost in a world that he could never have - for various reasons. 

“Not at all.” He smiled, the crooked smile he’d given her a thousand times over. He couldn't bring himself to look at her, his mind was still so stuck on Steve. She was just a filler, and he felt like shit for allowing what had happened to happen. It really was lust, mixed with need. Relationship status: Complicated 2.0. 

“It… It’s like it’s muted.” She ran her hand over his chest, swirling her finger over where the reactor sat. The soft blue glow muted by skin was admirable. She remembered, in a flash, a dream Steve had told her about, that he had of Tony. Steve was unaware it was Tony, but she knew as soon as he said, 'Glowing blue so bright and beautiful I wanted to cry - in my dream.'. She knew they were in love from day one, the two of them were just too stubborn to see it. 

“Is it muted everywhere down there?” Tony hadn’t really meant it the way she heard it. Though it had been on his mind the entire time they were together. The back "entrance".

“Um…” She laughed, nervous from the question. He wanted to take it back, wanted to say ‘never mind’ but before he could open his mouth she started in again. “If  you mean… back there.” She paused, pursing her lips for a moment. “I’d be willing to.” The words she said, ‘Willing to’. For who? Tony? Wasn’t this about her? It was supposed to be for _her_ to feel good - not him.

“I don’t want to unless you want to.” Why was he talking, he needed to sew his mouth closed, clamp it with a vice grip set with thread lock. It wasn't about her, none of it was. It was all about Steve still. He was replacing Steve, he loved Natasha, sure, he loved the hell out of her, and he was falling for her, but it wasn't as true as what he'd felt for Steve. He even realized he could see them ending over something trivial. 

If only he could rewind what had already happened, undo the damage he'd done to their friendship. 

"I don't know, Tony." She rolled away from him, pulling on the same one of his shirts she'd been wearing all day. 

"Did you ever want to date Steve?" He definitely didn't mean to ask that. And when her eyes looked back at him, she suddenly realized that he was still stuck on the blonde with dancing blue eyes. 

"Yea." She let out a sigh, crawling back onto the bed. "Why do you ask?" 

"Just curious." He forced another laugh, a short lived smile that warmed her for just a second before her heart faded back to coldness. 

"There's just - something about him that makes you feel safe, you know? Like he can save you no matter what." She sighed. 

"Yea but what if  _he_ needs saving?" 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The hardest part about writing fanfic is making sure the characters are behaving in a believable way - and proofing... I'm my own worst critique. But I also think I'm good, like WTF?
> 
> Sorry about all the Tony x Tasha btw... I'll cool it down eventually. Its all very important to the end story so please DON'T SKIP!


	9. Unfair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been a year since Steve left, a year for Natasha and Tony to love each other, and a year that leads to more heartache than they either deserve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to apologize ahead of time for the pain you are likely to experience reading this chapter... I cried while writing it. I'm sorry.

“Exactly a year ago today I stood down there begging Steve to stay, thinking I could - help you two be together.” She held a hand over her belly. “Never in my mind would I think _this_ is where it would end.” She smiled over to Tony.

He sat, legs crossed, reading a front page story on Stark Industries. The thought of Steve still hurt him. A wound that was likely to never heal. Wondering if he was even alive. Tony had to accept that Steve no longer wanted to be a part of his life - no matter how much he wanted him back. There was no convincing him to return - no talking him down, it was just - what was.

“Me either.” Tony stood, laying the tablet down on the table as he approached Natasha. He looked her over and gave her the most welcoming smile he’d ever given anyone. ‘This is what it’s like to be happy.’ He had never in a million years ever thought that he and Natasha would have been together - happily. He never imagined he would slow down and want a family - but she convinced him it was the right time to have children. No one was afraid anymore, the world was finally at peace - and it _was_ the right time.

“I’m scared.” Tony mumbled into her hair. She had grown it out again, after they both made public announcements of their ‘retirements’. Of course they would both come if the world _really_ needed them. But they both believed it never would again.

“Don’t be. Everything's going great - a few more weeks…” Her face was glowing with a smile as her hands trailed around her over sized belly. “And you’ll be a Daddy... “ She looked up at him, her eyes glowing with the radiance only an expecting mother had.

“Are you sure everything’s ok?” Tony couldn’t help but feel uneasy about the situation. He was scared. They were messing with a science he knew very little about. There were so many risks, so many opportunities for things to go wrong.

“Anthony Stark.” She stared down at him, “Our unborn child will be born in a little over a month. You need to have a little hope.” She shook her head and went to pull away from him only to be tugged back into a hug.

 

“I want to marry you.”

 

That was not his intended proposal. In fact he had a huge night planned for them, but he was too eager to wait.

“W-hat?” Her voice broke - it was really what she had always wanted. A family, marriage, kids, the _normal_ life.

“You heard me.” Tony dropped to one knee, looking up at her, watching as her hands instinctively moved to cover her face. She had let down the guarded Black Widow attitude, and revealed the beautiful woman beneath. “Natasha Romanov…” His voice paused, he was trying not to cry, a big smile plastered on his face. “Will you become Mrs. Stark?” Of course Tony _had_ to use his name, couldn’t just say marry me.

Not that it mattered to her. She accepted him, in his totality; including the side of him that was a little ego maniacal. All she could do was nod, nod her heart out, unable to say yes from the tears that streamed down her face.

  


 

“That ring is - wow.” The woman’s voice was soft and delicate, dancing around like a flower in the wind, an accent hidden beneath American English that was spoken for so long. 

“When exactly did Mr. Stark propose?” The voice sounded all too familiar to JARVIS.

“Earlier this morning…” Natasha stared down at the ring. It really was a wow ring. Tony didn’t mess around. “He said he had this huge thing planned tonight but seeing me in the sunlight this morning just concreted the idea in his head and he couldn’t help it.”

“Vision and I are really happy for you Tash.” Wanda’s voice went a little cold, and they all knew what she was about to ask. Vision gave her a stern look, begging her not to ask the dreaded question.

“Steve know?” His attempt to keep Wanda quiet had failed.

 

It pained her to even hear his name, and to know that he and Tony had that moment of such love that was thrown away. It pained her more for Tony than any jealousy, but it didn’t help that she _was_ carrying his child.  

“No.” She said it sharply, with a conviction only she could have. “I don’t know if I’m going to contact him. I’ve tried before - no luck.” She sighed, knowing how much of an issue it could become if he _did_ come back. “I can’t lie Wanda. What if… What is he comes back and Tony-”

“Don’t.” Wanda stopped her. “You can’t think like that. Tony loves you.” She grabbed Natasha’s hand, holding it tightly as she and Vision looked her over. “You were the one that saw our chance at love - let me see yours.” She gave her a soft smile - but it had the strength to burn the sun out with its love.

“Thanks.” Even with Wanda's reassurance the feeling couldn’t be thrown off so lightly. Steve was a looming darkness she’d feared would return to haunt her. From the day he left she viewed him as a ghost from the past. As Tony’s demise, or her own. It wasn't something that was easily forgotten. Her instincts were never wrong. And she had told Tony from the moment she had first seen them together, she just  _knew_ that they would be happy together. It scared her that Steve could one day show up and things would change. 

If he returned, the entire dynamic would shift. Nothing could stop true love, and she was truly curious if it was them that were meant to be together. Even her heart, though so open, and giving to Tony, had thoughts of Bruce from time to time. She wanted to tell him she was ok, that things were fine, that she was happy, but every time she thought of him, her heart sank. She still loved him - she was still in love with him. 

She felt sick to her stomach. 

"I should go." 

"No, stay, finish lunch! Tony Jr. needs his Mom to be strong and healthy!" Wanda's warm and airy attitude was hard to deny, even for Natasha. 

"I don't know I think..." She let out a heavy sigh, eyes shifting to Vision. "Can you give us a minute?" 

"Surely." He stood, bowing his head to her, his hands moving with a gentleness against Wanda's cheek before he pulled away and left the two to their devices. 

 

"I think I still love Bruce. So this isn't all one-sided with the whole Steve thing." She blurted it out, and felt like the entire universe had been lifted off her shoulders. But Wanda just stared at her, wide eyed, gawking at the revelation. 

"Tasha... You're getting  _married_. You can't say yes unless you know for certain that you are prepared to be with him  _forever_." She kept her eyes on the green gaze before her. 

She knew Wanda was right. Maybe Natasha was jumping to the idea that she and Tony could work out because all her other relationships in the past had failed so miserably. Not to mention what she had wanted with Clint had failed after his  _issues_. She still had no intention of telling Tony the entire story, or telling him why Clint had left the Avengers, why he disappeared, and why his existence was purged from S.H.I.E.L.D. by her doing. 

She couldn't betray him like that. It would be too painful to discuss. 

"I know... And I'm carrying his child but... Recently I just keep thinking about Bruce and Steve and what would happen if they came back." She narrowed her eyes on the croissant laid before her. "I found something interesting in the S.H.I.E.L.D. database, too." She pursed her lips. "I think they know where Bruce is." 

"Tasha-" 

"I know... I can't but..." She ran her hands through her hair. Perhaps she and Tony were more similar in their monstrosities than they cared to admit. 

"You're going to, aren't you?" Wanda let out a sigh, shaking her head. She could see Vision off to the side, smiling at the barista as he ordered something way too complicated for any other shop to know how to make just right. But there was a reason The Brewing Flower was his favorite shop. 

"I need to find him. I need to - we have to sort it out." 

"Tasha he left because he didn't want to hurt you. That is the most romantic and loving thing I've ever seen in my entire life." 

"Steve did the same for Tony." Natasha wasn't going to back down.

"You know, you never told me exactly why Steve left..." Wanda hinted at wanting more information on the whole thing, her fingers laced in the white cappuccino mug before her. 

"It's... complicated." She let out a heavy sigh. "Something awful happened after the war. I don't bring it up to Tony because - he and Steve remember the events very  _differently_ from what actually happened. I don't like thinking someone messed with his mind." 

"What do you mean?" 

"Its not important. What matters is that someone found a way to manipulate Steve, so him leaving - in his eyes - was the only way to ensure Tony's safety. Just like Bruce leaving me was -" She stopped, sighing again. The tears just never quit.

"Tash." Wanda was growing weary of trying to get the answers out of her. Of course she knew that Widow would eventually talk if she wanted to - it was an uphill battle. It wasn't like she could possibly tire Natasha out. 

"It's a lot to talk about Wanda." 

"Our lives always are." She gave a sigh, hand resting on Natasha's. "It's ok. You'll tell me eventually, I'm sure."

"You remember, right?" Green eyes shifted to deep orbs of brown. Sorry filled her the edge, an eternity of torment locked in a soul so wanting. 

"The war? Of course." Wanda's face was covered in concern, she'd never seen Tasha look so upset. 

"They don't - at least, not what actually happened. I mean, they remember the fight, and the argument, and Tony remembers finding out Bucky killed his parents, and that Steve kept it from him." She paused, licked lips being pulled into a pursed line. 

"What is it then?" 

"Steve killed Tony." 

 

 

 

“How are Vision and Wanda?” Tony called out to her, behind the walls of the kitchen he was preparing something different for her that night.

“They’re good. Wanda told me to stop worrying about Ste-” she tried to catch herself but knew that even the beginning of his name would be enough to set Tony off.

“Steve? What about him? He hasn’t contacted you, has he?” He was more angry sounding than anything. “The guy goes AWOL and just - I swear if and when he comes back I’m gonna punch him right in his perfect fucking teeth.”

“Tony-”

“I’m serious!”

“I know, that’s what I’m worried about.” She sighed, wincing as a pain shot through her. “T-Tony…” She panicked a bit, it wasn’t time, not yet - not yet, a couple more weeks. It was too early.

“What?”

“Tony-” he sensed the panic and dropped their plates on the floor, running towards her.

“What’s wrong, tell me what’s wrong!” He was panicked, his face wide eyed and grief stricken. He couldn’t lose her, not then, not ever.

“I don’t know -” She grabbed at her belly, screaming so loud it hurt him.

“Hang on.” He had grabbed his phone and just called the first name, it was Pepper, and when her voice answered over the other line - he was surprised.

“Something’s wrong with the baby.”

“I’ll be right there!” He knew she would handle everything, he just needed to focus on Natasha, keep her calm - he had to. He couldn’t lose her.

 

The hospital was quiet, it set an eerie tone. Tony had been pacing for three hours while they ran test after test. He yelled at doctors, pushed them aside so he could see her - but it just tore at his heart even more.

“This was a bad idea.” He shook his head, gnawing at his thumb until the flesh had gone so moist it started to peel away.

 

“Tony -” Steve.

 

He froze. Mid step, he froze like prey beneath a predator. His voice came across him like whiplash, and all he wanted to do was hug him - not hit him, but hug him and sob and beg for an answer.

“Is she ok?”

“I… I… I don’t know….” He moved into Steve, welcomed with a deep embrace. Though it meant something entirely different to Steve than Tony. It _hurt._ It hurt like hell. And he, for a second, thought he was there.

“It’s going to be ok.” Steve didn’t let go, he had missed him - he had thought about him for so long - wondering what it would be like to go back to see him again.

“How do you know?!” Tony couldn’t hold back the sobs anymore, not that Steve minded. He welcomed the openness, his hands holding Tony so tight he thought he’d break him. They clung to each other in a way no one else could possibly imagine. Their love had never died - but was simply paused.

“Shhh,” Steve _didn’t_ know. That was the issue - he made open promises all the time - tried hard to keep them. But Tony _needed_ to know. He _had_ to know. The life of his child was hanging in the balance and he was - literally - losing his mind.

Steve wasn’t about to let it happen though. He held Tony, not letting him move, ignoring the fact that he was in so much pain because Tony had moved on, it was so selfish to feel that way - and he was disgusted with himself. He wanted to go back in time, to stop anything bad from happening - to change it all, to even help him find out about his chances with Natasha before they started.

“I can’t do this…” Tony sobbed into Steve, and they held each other in a strange entanglement somewhat swaying from side to side. Tony didn’t care about the reporters, didn’t care about onlookers judging him, all that mattered was his baby - an untouched and unborn life that was at stake.

“You can.” Steve whispered it to him, knowing only he could hear it. “You can do this, Tony. Your son needs you to. It’s going to be ok. I promise, it’s going to be ok.” He lied. He didn’t know if it would be - he wanted it to be, he prayed for it to be, but he didn’t _know_ that it would be. And it hurt that he didn’t have the answer Tony needed.

 

Tony had fallen asleep in Steve's arms. Cried himself into a slumber.  He sat Tony in a chair just outside Natasha's room. Steve was sure his head would be killing him when he woke - decided to find some aspirin and a soda for him. He knew Tony didn’t drink soda too much, would’ve gotten him some coffee if the damn machine wasn’t out of order - but it had to be better than nothing.

Steve looked him over, feeling that same churning in his stomach. He told himself it was wrong, Tony had a family - he had missed his chance to love him, and had to accept it - but it hurt; a lot.

“Tones?” He nudged the man awake, watching as the fear reclaimed his eyes. He looked at Steve, and the urge to cry came flooding back. This time - it wasn’t because of the baby or his soon to be wife - but because of Steve. He looked so hurt - Tony saw it then - how much pain he’d been in by staying away and alone for so long.

“Steve?” He grabbed him, and yanked him hard into a hug, this time being the shoulder to cry on. But Steve kept silent - he wasn’t going to take Tony’s happiness away. He deserved to be happy.

“I got you some medicine… I’m sure your head hurts from all that....” He let his voice trail away, overhearing the news report. They had already started jumping to conclusions about it. Saying his baby had already died, and that Natasha had passed away during childbirth.

It made Steve’s stomach tighten. He tried to keep Tony’s focus on him, but he knew it would be harder than ever before.

 

“Tony do you remember when you lost one of your boot jets?” Steve started the story, smiling at the memory, his lips against Tony's shoulder. “There was a  malfunction with the reactor - and you were doing loop de loops through the training room?”

It wasn’t working. Tony's brown eyes just kept staring into the void - calculating away all the possible outcomes of the situation and how he should react to each one.

“Do you remember when I came in and told you I wanted ice cream - but I didn’t know how to get into the fridge?” He lifted his head, pulled back so he could look at Tony's doe eyes. Steve got a twinkle. “And you got so mad at me, and said, ‘Old people are such a nuisance.’?” Tony turned to him a bit more. “You had to get up to show me how to use the fridge - because I couldn’t find the handle.”

 

“And when I did - you felt so stupid you sulked for a week and a half.” There he was. “Who doesn’t know how to open a fridge?”

“A guy who was frozen for so long, an old friends son became a world known genius, billionaire, playboy, and philanthropist.” And with that Steve was forgiven.

It happened in an instant, everything Tony had held against him vanished, and it was like nothing had changed.

“Mr. Stark.” Tony stayed seated as Steve jolted up. “We’ve stabilized Natasha but…”

 

His voice disappeared, the words became murmurs he couldn’t focus on. All he thought about was how unfair it all was. It wasn’t right - none of it was right. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t. It had to stop. It couldn’t be happening. It had to stop. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair.

  
  
“It isn’t fair.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am really sorry... and I appreciate you reading through it all. And please do not think that I wanted that all to happen - as a writer we are shown the story in our minds and it is our job to put it to paper. Seeing it pained me as much as writing it. I hope you can see the light at the end and continue reading my work. 
> 
> 'The darkness is all consuming and even his bright smile can't pull me from the depths of this black hole.'


	10. Pick and Choose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end of love. Tony and Natasha have to face reality - even if they want to save something that cannot be saved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One box of tissue should suffice.. again.. sorry for the pain

Tensions were high after the hospital. Tony had resumed his terrible drinking, and Natasha rarely came from her room. Steve had moved back into the tower in hopes of helping them heal - but he felt like he was doing more damage than good.

Tony had been right, it _wasn’t_ fair.

 

“I’m sorry ok!? You want me to say that, Tony?! I shouldn’t have even tried to have kids! I told you!”

“Don’t you try and blame me for this! You were the one that pushed me to have a family! You should have accepted the limitations!”

They couldn’t go five minutes without tearing into each other. Steve had given up trying to keep them calm, given up trying to help them work it out - and was mostly just around to make sure they didn’t kill each other - and to stop Tony from flying around in the Iron Man suit drunk off his ass.  

“Screw you!" She shrieked, fleeing from Tony’s room to see Steve standing in the hallway. Hearing them hate each other hurt him. He looked over her, his eyes pinched in pain. He could tell she wanted to blame him - somehow. She wanted to put the hate on someone other than herself - but she couldn’t. Even with him standing there in the hallway, looking so _perfect_. She couldn’t. In her heart she had known that Tony had always belonged with Steve, and that the universe was just torturing her with the idea of happiness. 

She had to accept that it would never happen. 

He didn’t try to talk to her anymore - all she did was scoff at him, made him feel more miserable in an already miserable situation. What she and Tony went through - it was unfair - it was _wrong_ . It was so very _wrong._ People who gave their all to the world - to have their dreams ripped away - to be made out to hate each other - the world was ugly. Steve had become jaded, had wondered if he should even fight for the world they were living in.  

 

“Tony.” Steve’s voice rang into the air. The workshop was filthy. Not cluttered, but a sty. It smelled like a mix of rotting milk and body odor. At the beginning of it all, Steve had done a fairly decent job of keeping the man cleaned up. But the more Tony drank, the more angry he became. With his aggression looming overheard so constantly, Steve had reached a point of disregard. Steve had even let Tony go crazy and punch him in the gut over and over until the tears took his strength away. But this Tony, the slob of  man, there was nothing about this Tony that he even remotely wanted to help. He had shut down, almost completely. He was unresponsive to communications, unresponsive to touch, he didn't answer, barely ate, barely even existed. 

“You need to eat.”

“You need to get laid.” He was drunk again - no surprises.

“Well I’m not really interested in that right now.” Steve sighed, and attempted to clean up some of the putrid clothes scattered about. “Honestly Tony, look at this mess!” He was reaching his limit. He knew what Tony was going through was painful and he had no way in hell of understanding the pain - even remotely. But still, he was throwing his life away and it hurt Steve to see him so miserable. He ran a hand through his hair, attempting to reign in the situation. He needed to find some grounding to show Tony the way, but they were both floating through space without a suit, or a ship. 

“Fuck off.” He chucked the bottle, quite literally, at Steve, attempting to hit him but being about a foot off from the lack of equilibrium. He was greeted with sharp blue eyes, they plagued him with a look of disappointment so dauntingly strong that Tony couldn't bring himself to keep their gazes locked. 

“Tony-” Steve’s voice fell, as he spoke in a  whisper. “You can’t keep doing this… You have to eat, please.” He was breaking. Never had Steve ever thought that this would happen to him, to Tony, to Natasha. Never did he imagine that he would run from a fight - thinking, quite stupidly, that it was the right thing to do. He never backed down. But with Tony, he'd been so terrified of hurting him, that leaving for that one year seemed like the best solution - but nothing changed. He'd found no answers to the serum that coursed through his veins. He had no idea how it was triggered, and no remembrance of the beatings he'd given Tony those nights in the mountain. 

He had no idea that type of monster he'd become, and why Tony was always struggling to be near him. He was too absorbed in his own issues of inadequacy to notice that Tony was screaming for help - or maybe he just didn't want to help anymore. Maybe he was in disbelief of it all. Maybe he was over it, maybe he was done being a hero, maybe truth and leadership were finally breaking him down. 

“Where were you huh?! AN whole fucking year Steve! A whole GODDAMN YEAR!” He screamed out in slurred words, ready to sling hate at Steve. “A fucking year of my life - you fucking missed out buuuuddy.” He hiccuped, staggering towards Steve. His hands moved into the air, swinging to hold onto anything that might steady his swaying movements. 

“Tony- please.” He wished that Tony was sober so he could see the pain Steve had for him, the anguish, the attempt to understand what he was feeling. But Tony wasn't, he hadn't been sober for more than five minutes once they'd returned to the tower. And with each passing day, the drinking was more and more excessive. He was too afraid then to take the bottle away, fearing it would only hurt Tony even more. 

“NO! Don’t you Please Tony me, Mr. Spangles. You fu-ass!”

“I can’t do this anymore.” Steve threw his hands up. Retreating towards the door. “If you want a punching bag to blame-” he paused, took a long inhale, wondering if Tony would awaken from his stupidity with it. “Then find someone else. Cause I’m not doing it anymore.” His stopped as the door slid open, his eyes shifting back to Tony for a moment. 

It wasn’t what he _wanted_ to say. But what he wanted to say would have killed Tony. Perhaps he needed to hear it. Perhaps Tony needed to shoulder some of the blame for the miscarriage. Perhaps it was time that he faced the music of his own demise. 

"You're done?! What does that even mean? You think you - you - you get to just - walk away?!" Tony moved towards him, stumbling, falling onto his hands and knees. "You think you get to turn -" he paused, his voice cracking under the tears that welled in his eyes. "You think you can just make me fall in love and leave - and..." He took a breath, struggling to breath passed the tears. "She - and the -" He fell into a full sob, curling up on the floor as pools of tears pooled beneath him. 

"Tony, I-"

"I loved you, you know that, don't you?" Tony's eyes had closed, the only thing that felt normal anymore was sleep and it was forever hard to grasp.

 

The morning came on a lot harsher than Steve wanted. He opened his eyes to the sound of  shattering glass, unable to recall how he'd wound up in his room. He had remembered pulling Tony into his bed, the night before, sitting with him while he retched up bucket after bucket of pure alcohol. He was in fear of what Tony's liver was looking like. His weight shifted, and he sat up in his bed, the name calling and screaming kicking off early. It wasn’t even 7 am yet. He had to put an end to it.

“You wanted it to be me! Didn’t you!?” She threw another plate, and Steve just leaned in the doorway, arms crossed watching them argue.

“I didn’t say that!” Tony was irritated, _really_ irritated. He was sober though - probably had a hangover the size of Mars.

“You wish I died that day!”

“NO!” He moved towards her, grabbing her arms. Steve tensed up a bit - unsure of what Tony’s end game was. He felt horror at the thought that came into his mind. Tony would  _never_ in a million years, lay a hand on her - he knew that. 

“Let go of me!” She screamed, tears pouring out. But he pulled her in, holding her tight, whispering so low Steve couldn’t hear - even with his super soldier hearing. So he just watched, interested, intrigued, wondering if they still had a chance. They both sobbed, and Steve’s heart wrenched at the sight - they were both hurting - so badly. He wanted to fix it - but he knew he couldn’t - there was no way.

“I’m sorry.” She mumbled, her hands clinging onto his shirt, tugging hard at it. She needed his love more than ever but he couldn’t give it - he hadn’t any to give.

“I’m sorry too.” Their beautiful life had fallen into a black hole and they were never going to escape the dark clutches.

 

Natasha packed some bags, it was a bittersweet goodbye. She wanted to stay, wanted to try and work it out - but she knew it would never happen - there had been too much loss. Tony knew it too, and as desperately as he wanted to keep her around - she was better off away from him - he ruined everything he touched.

“I’ll always love you, you know that right?” She kept her eyes on him. It was true, in the deepest sentiment it had always been true. She had always seen though his bull, known who he was at his core, and even accepted that eventually he would probably end up in Steve’s arms. And she was _okay_ with it. She actually liked the idea of him being happy.

“Steve.” She looked at him, looking more and more like the Black Widow he’d fought alongside for so many years. And he lost it, he sobbed, for them, for their pain, for the loss of their child, for their love that would never return. And all he could do was hug her, and sob, sob his eyes out. Because he saw it, in her, that loss, that pain that would never quite go away. She finally had her dream - and it was ripped away from her.

“I’m sorry-” he choked the words out, he hated that he was crying - he had never cried like that - so hard - so full of pain. “I’m so sorry Tash… I’m…” He choked on the words, feeling her tears hit his shoulder.

“Someday - someday I’ll get to meet him, you believe that crap, right?” She gulped, and he heard her swallow her heart down. It hurt. They had so much pain. Why did they all have to suffer more? He wanted to say yes, wanted to tell her that someday she'd meet the son she'd never had, and that everything would be bright and warm and pure. But he didn't believe it, as badly as he wanted to, he didn't believe it. 

“I bet he’ll look like Tony, with green eyes.” Steve pulled back, forcing a smile. It hurt him to lie to her, hurt him to pretend someday things would be _ok._

“Maybe… That’s not a bad look.” Her smile was real, as pained eyes took her face back, the smile was real. It was all thee needed.

He watched as she left, wondering where she was heading off to. He assumed that she was regaining her clearance with SHIELD. It was the only thing that really made sense to him. She and Tony were obviously never going to work things out, and he assumed the idea of love was too daunting at that point. He assumed she'd stay away from it for a long while. 

But he wondered if she'd try again someday, to have a family, to have the normal life she wanted so badly. He had never told her, but he had known of her conversation with Bruce, and he was the only that influenced Bruce to leave. He wanted her to be happy, but he knew where Bruce was coming from. He couldn't give her what she wanted, and it pained him to see such desire he could never grant. 

Steve attributed a love of their interactions to the reason the group had fallen apart so severely. He knew, from the start, it was only a matter of time before things would heat up and people would fall in love, it was human nature. But he'd never imagined that Natasha and Banner - Bruce, would have a thing. He had always imagined her and Clint together - but then finding out about Clint's family, he was shocked. 

He still wondered what it was he'd been going through that year before, when Tasha had lightly touched upon it, but not allowing them to have any details on it, not really. She loved being vague, that was for sure. 

 

Steve did his best to keep Tony from drinking. But it didn’t work all the time. Having just the two of them back in the house was awkward at best. And Steve had needed to override the security locks on the door a dozen times to get to Tony after some half witted attempt at what Steve could only assume was a cry for help. The man lost his son. Unborn son. And Steve couldn’t, for the life of him, imagine how that felt. He wanted to - so he could try to know what Tony was feeling but he just couldn’t.

“Get off me!” His fist landed against Steve’s check with a heavy smack, and he let his head turn, another hit landing to send it the other way. Hitting him seemed to be the only thing to calm Tony down. So he took the beatings, a lot of them. It hurt from time to time, but he’d be just fine in a day, hell maybe a few hours.

Even with the beatings Steve never stopped trying to help, he tried to convince him to bathe, to eat, to drink, to get into the sun even if it was, “just five minutes, Tony - please.” He’d even been to the point of begging him one day. He was getting worried. He showed no interest in work, no interest in life, on interest in even existing.

“Does hitting me make you feel better?” He pulled away from Tony, looking down at him with that tight clenched jaw and straight stare he got when he was angry.

Tony didn’t answer, just took another swing. Steve had the feeling he was becoming a mantle for Tony’s displacement of anger about his child’s death. Tony was filtering his anger of his son’s death towards Steve’s abandonment into an excuse to hate him and beat on him.

Steve didn’t really _need_ the answer, he more or less wanted to make Tony see why he was doing what he was doing. And Steve knew he could take it. Hit after hit, punch after punch, kick after kick. He’d get back up and stay Tony’s punching bag. He didn’t know what else to do.

 

It hurt. He ran his fingers over his shoulder, close to his neck. Tony had _bit_ him. It was weird when it happened, he wasn’t sure what was going on. Tony had brought in a hard right hook, and as Steve pulled his head back, he felt a sharp jarring pain and then the trickle of blood. Tony _bit_ him. He had no idea what to make of it. But he needed help - that much was clear.

“Hello?”

“I need your help.”

“It’s Tony - isn’t it?”

“Please Pepper, I don’t know what to do anymore.”

“I’ll be there in a few hours.”

 

He clicked the phone off, eyes trailing back to the mirror, observing the teeth markings that Tony had left on his neck. He couldn't imagine why he would bite him. It was strange. Biting was to Tony, as far as Steve knew, a rather sexual thing. He had recalled, on numerous occasions, when Tony would prattle on about his fantasies, and almost everyone included bites on his or his partners neck. The aggressive display of anger, or lust, was - interesting. 

His fingers trailed over the marks, they'd already begun to heal. The bite wasn't nearly was terrible looking as it had been when it first happened. Tony had made a decent mark, gotten in deep enough that there were still streams of dried blood around his shoulder and chest. He pulled his shirt off, fingers prodding at the skin, again. He let out a sigh, his hand falling. It wasn't fair. It wasn't supposed to happen - not like that. It wasn't right. 

His legs shifted, moving towards the bed. He flopped onto it, content with knowing that Tony had fallen asleep down the hall, and was hopefully slumbering somewhat peacefully. He stared at the ceiling, wondering if Tony would ever want to try at the normal life again. Want kids, a wife, maybe a dog. Then he remembered Tony saying he loved him, and his belly flopped around. 

'It was a drunken slip up, he most likely meant to say it to Natasha.' Steve told himself, over and over, making the lie become more believable. Memories were so easily manipulated, after all. The sharp cry of Tony raked him away from his memory. 

“Get out of my house!” Tony was less than thrilled to see her. Pepper of all people, he had to call _her_?

“GET OUT!” He wanted the suit on so bad, begged to feel its power, to be able to run from his problems - but Steve - not so terrible with computers after all. Maybe it was just because of JARVIS, maybe it was just because Tony had stopped really caring - it didn’t matter anymore.

Steve made his way out of his room, down the hall to the center of the drama. He stood in the background for a moment, looking over the scene as hate filled words spewed from Tony's mouth.

“Tony-” She pursed her lips as he went off with another ranting, screaming obscenities at them both, shrieking like a baby. They wanted to be angry but couldn’t. He was still so tormented.

“Tony - enough.” Steve had made his way down the three steps that dipped them into what Steve considered the 'common room'. He stood before Tony, his hand raised, palm pressing flat against Tony’s chest. There was something about the blue in his eyes that reminded Tony of the sky and flying into combat with him. He couldn’t help but speak truth to those eyes.

“I can’t keep doing this, Steve.” His eyes shook, wildly, from the stress, for the sadness, the lack of sleep, life. He had begged for those eyes to save him, over and over, and every time Steve attempted he was met with rejection. Tony couldn't undo and un-live the pain he'd felt, caused by Steve and the universe itself.

“Tony, please.” Steve begged, his voice _begged_. He was desperate. He still loved Tony, so much it pained him to see how broken he’d become. "You gotta get better, please." He felt the tears coming. Again, he couldn't shake the feeling that there was something else going on he was unaware of. He had no idea what to do, and his eyes shifted to Pepper, who stood somewhat shadowed, but the light sparkled on the tears staining her cheeks. 

She'd avoided Tony since the incident had happened. She hadn't spoken to Steve since his court date, and hadn't really been a part of their lives in  ages - but there she was. Again. Fighting to save Tony. 

“I can’t Cap, I’ve got no fight left.”

 He called him Cap. He hadn’t done that in a while. It warmed Steve’s heart so much to hear such a long ago pet name being brought back from the grave.

“Tony.” Pepper stepped in beside him, her hand on his shoulder. “We’re worried about you.” She knew at his core he was logical, and he had to work through his pain to see the logic of the situation.

“I know.” He muttered the words, feeling Steve’s hand grab him as he hunched like a child onto the floor.

“We’re going to help you Tony.” Steve’s words were soft, meant just for him, no one else, like Pepper wasn’t even there.

“You can’t save a monster from themselves.”

 

That was the second time Tony had called himself a monster in front of Steve. What hurt the most was knowing how _true_ it was to Tony.

“That’s why-”

“No.” Steve’s voice was angry, laced with disappointment that Tony could even think that.

“Yes it is. That’s why I lost him.”

“No. Tony. No.” Steve shook his head, hard, he refused to accept it. Tony was a good man, he was a kind man, he was a generous man, regardless of what other people believed.

“Tony,” Pepper pulled him into a hug, holding his half limp body up. “You’re not a monster.” She sighed into him, holding him so tight she hurt. “You’re not.”

“Then why did he die?” Tony sobbed into her. He just wanted his son back, the son he never held, the son he never named, the son he never met. He just wanted to have a family - to be _normal._

"I don't know." She sighed, teeth pulling her lips so that they pursed. "I don't know why you have to suffer so much." 

"I don't want to hurt anymore - I can't do this." He lifted his eyes to Steve, watching as the man he'd run to for help cried, unable to save the day like he usually did. How he wished that Steve had some answer for him, someway to fix it. He needed a savior, he needed a hero, he needed a soldier. 

"Steve..." Tony's eyes welled with tears, Peppers arms releasing him so they could all see each other, clearly. "Save me before I kill myself." 

 

The real call.

  
Steve stood in the door of Pepper's office, arms crossed. His shoulder to hip ratio was ridiculous, and even she couldn't deny how attractive he was.

“Yes." Her eyes shifted to him for a moment before resting back onto nothing. "He’s got a month left in therapy before -” She paused, irritated by whoever was on the other end of the phone. “Yes. Yes I understand. Uh huh. You too.” She slammed the phone down, then a few more times for good measure. Pepper had become an integral part of Tony’s life since his downfall, and though he’d been making real strides towards healing he had a long road ahead of him.

“‘The loss he faced was undeniable horrible, but we cannot wait around forever or the company will tank.’ Savages.” She growled, standing up from her desk to pace about the room. She had been in charge of Stark Industries for so long she couldn’t really remember a time she wasn’t. The Board of Directors though - they wanted Tony. The company faltered a bit upon the news of his breakup and loss of his child. They spun stories about how the tech industry wasn’t all that good if he couldn’t even save his child. She wondered if reporters even had souls anymore - or if they were just the devil in disguise.

“Wow. That’s-”

“Cold.” She cut Steve off, turning around on her heel to look him dead in the eyes. “Do you think he’s ready?”

He didn’t want to hear it. He didn’t want to answer it. He wanted to act like she hadn’t asked so he didn’t have to give an answer. But slowly he began to shake his head, though he wanted to nod.

“No. Not yet.” He sighed, moving towards her desk. “He’s close but - his self image - you know as cocky as he is-”

“He has terrible self-esteem.”

“It’s like he really thinks he’s a monster.” Steve sighed, seating himself at her desk. He was beginning to become overwhelmed again, and the voice in his head kept telling him that Tony was safer with him gone.

“He does.” She looked him over, her arms crossing. “Look at his past, Steve. He grew up hearing these stories of you… Idolizing you, knowing that his father approved so much of you - only to befriend you and be rejected. He has constantly risen to challenges, exceeded them, and managed to disappoint some father like figure along the way. It’s no freaking wonder he has poor self esteem!”

“He-” he paused, chewing hard at his bottom lip. “Dammit,” he groaned. “Him and his father issues.”

“Not everyone reacts the same to parental input, Steve.” She snapped it at him, not letting him think for a second he could blame Tony for his emotions.

“It makes this harder.”

“I know. But you need to support him. No matter what, ok? He needs you more than ever right now. So be his _Dad_ , I guess.”

The idea alone made him cringe. He loved Tony, in a way a father should _never_ love his son.

Damn Tony and his daddy issues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm happy you're still reading... surprised even. It's only going to get worse before it gets better. 
> 
> 'Run while you can - before the demon in me kills you too.'


	11. I'm ok

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Love is hard to grasp, especially when Steve and Tony are both so unwillingly willing to love one another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a little cute, because I needed it after all sad.

“What do you want?” Though Tony did his best to hide the pain that still lingered beneath the surface - Steve saw right through it.

“Just wanted to talk.” He seated himself at the bench press, eyes down on the mats beneath. The idea of working out with Tony crossed his mind a couple times - but he assumed the man would rather be alone. He had a feeling some of the puddles on the floor weren’t just from sweat - but tears as well.

“It’s been 6 months.” Tony said it as if trying to convince Steve he was ok now, not that he was even close to being ok. He smiled, a real smile, from time to time, but whenever he realized he had - he’d tear it away and remind himself he didn’t deserve to be happy.

“I know.” Steve’s hands had been clinging to his pants, fighting off the clammy feelings that plagued them as soon as he had entered the room. Their was a thickness between them, something he couldn’t shake whenever he was near Tony. He wanted to hold him, tell him it would all be ok - he had said that once and it was a lie.

“I’m fine, Spangles.” Tony must have forgotten when that name had once done to Steve, the intimate moment they shared when he uttered those words. Steve hated himself for wishing they could be like that again. Tony would only rebuff his advances, he knew that. And it was ok.

“Stark.” Steve stood up, heavy hearted, and sighed. “Anthony.” That was so new Tony’s head snapped towards him, eyebrows pinched together in pain. Steve gnawed so hard at his lip while pondering over the question he wanted to ask - knowing it was a bad idea.

“Don’t.” Tony could feel it looming in the air, and it made tears well into his eyes. Steve had to know, he _had_ to.

“Please?” He hated himself more for begging. He had felt so apart from Tony, and he wanted to feel everything Tony had to offer, even his pain.

“Spangles - don’t make me do this.” He had dropped the weights with a heavy thud on the ground, and his chest heaved with sadness, fighting off tears.

Steve brought his gaze up, and Tony saw all the pain he had been feeling for him, in an instant. Tony wanted to tell him, desperately, but there was a reason he was avoiding Steve’s name so heavily.

“Tony,” he started in again, standing. “I know it’s selfish -” he paused again, desperately begging his own mouth to stop. “Please?”

Damn the way he sounded, damn his perfect face, damn his body being so relaxed and offering, damn him for wanting to help, damn him _for_ helping. Damn him for coming back.2

“Steven Clint Stark.” Tony’s heart ripped from his chest, and tears came crashing in like a burn he couldn’t get rid of. Steve pulled him in, not letting him get away. He needed to be the shoulder that Tony cried on, he _had_ to be the shoulder.

But he felt sick to his stomach. He was honored - but so distraught over having made Tony re-live the pain again. He opened his mouth to apologize but couldn’t, just left it open, fighting back his own emotions. He wanted to tell Tony it was going to be ok again, _someday._ He wanted to tell him that he would wake up and the pain would be gone - but he knew Tony wouldn’t want to hear it. Tony would want to feel that pain the rest of his life, to his grave.

He wondered how Natasha was doing.

 

“She’s ok.” Clint’s voice rang over the phone connection. “I mean… she’s been through hell but she’ll be ok.” He paused for a moment, sighing to Steve. “Is… is Tony alright?” His voice whispered, not wanting to mention Tony too loudly for her to hear.

“He… He’s getting better. You know what they were going to name him?”

“Yea, Tasha told me…” his voice was an echo in Steve’s ear, and he desperately wanted them all to be whole again.

“I wish -”

“You could fix it?”

“Mhm.” Steve couldn’t talk passed the tears. It wasn’t fair. They were both good people who both deserved happiness, but it wasn’t ever going to happen.

“Someday - they’ll be ok, Steve. We just need to be here for them.”

“Someday can be a long way off.”

“Guess that's bad new for you, old man.” 

 

He hung up. Knowing how she was brought him a strange sense of comfort. Knowing she and Tony both seemed to be moving in the right direction was even more helpful, but knowing that there was still opportunity for him to betray Tony was a hovering fear. 

  


“Steve!?” Tony’s voice tore through the cold night like a machete. And Steve found himself running down the hall towards Tony’s room, his heart praying he was ok.

“Tony?!” He panted, his chest heaving in the gray tank he wore. His eyes fell over Tony, who lay in bed, trembling and shaking from fear. He moved to him, seating himself in the bed. Tony clung to him in an instant, his face scrunched with so much pain.

“Tony…?” Steve didn’t know where to put his hands, and they hovered, awkwardly, over his body for a few minutes before he finally rested one on Tony’s arm, and the other in his lap.

He didn’t want to wake him, but seeing the pain on his face made it hard not to. He was most likely dreaming up some nightmare. Steve just stared down at him, and watched in awe as his face finally relaxed from their closeness. It hurt him in his gut - if Tony were awake, he knew he’d be greeted with a cold shoulder.

“Steve,” he groaned, his fingers hooking onto Steve’s hand. They grabbed tight to him, holding him so hard it whitened his knuckles. He wondered what Tony was dreaming of, if it was painful, or pleasant. He didn’t want him to suffer anymore.

“Tony…” Steve leaned into him, wanting more than anything to share another intimate moment, to hold him in his arms, to just look at him while being devoured by pleasure.

“Steve?” His voice was more awake, and his soft eyes peered up at Steve. His eyes were so warm, the way the blue looked in the dim light, almost brown, but the edges of blue were there, and Tony knew that.

“I’m here - but if you want me to leave-”

“No.” Tony looked away from him, ashamed that he wanted the company - he didn’t deserve it. “Please… don’t go.” It took everything in him not to break down again. Steve could tell, so he just sat there, beside his broken Tony, and held his shoulder. Maybe it brought some relief to the man. Maybe Steve was being selfish. He would never know.

 

The night passed by smoothly from then on. Somehow Steve had ended up in the covers with Tony, and managed to tangle himself around the man in his sleep. He wondered, as his eyes opened, how Tony would feel about it. To wake up in Steve’s arms.

And as his brown eyes peeked open, and he noticed the arm that had draped across his chest, he couldn't think of a better place in the world to be - and it made him hate himself. Did he ever even love Natasha? Or was she really a runner up?

“I’m a monster.” His voice was harsh in the morning silence, and Steve growled at his first morning thought, wanting to smack him in the back of the head for it.

“Stop it, Tony.” He pulled him back, forced him into his chest, a terrible attempt at a hug, though Tony somewhat welcomed it.

“I am… Look at -”

“Tony - please.” Steve’s voice had a tone he’d never quite heard before, something about it was lustful.

“What are you?” He tried to look back at him, but Steve’s grip tightened, and his arms was just slightly over Tony’s shoulder enough that he couldn’t look back.

“Please - you’re not a monster.” Tony had forgotten Steve’s tormenting demons. He had killed the man once, pierced into his heart with his shield.

Tony clung to Steve’s arm, half attempting to pull it away, half attempting to become part of him.

“S-” Tony stopped, he wanted to take that step badly, he wanted to feel again. He was sick of the pain, sick of the heartache, he wanted it to go away. “Sol-” he kept stopping, the reactor mimicking a heart beating wildly from anxiety.

“Say it.” Steve’s voice was hot on his nape, and it made his entire body shiver from the intimacy of the moment. But his voice was rough, half awake, and Tony doubted that he was actually in control of what he was saying in response. 

“Sold-” He gulped, wondering if it was right, wondering if it was ok that he wanted to feel that way again - wondering if Natasha would forgive him - if they could ever look each other in the eyes again.

“Say it, Tony.” His voice was low, and closer, his lips on Tony’s ear as the words spilled over. Lust had her clutches in him, and all reasoning flew out the window at the moment Tony even attempted the word.  

“Soldier.” He felt Steve’s lips flutter over his neck, his hand holding him in so tight he felt like he was being crushed - but he still wasn’t close enough.

“Again.” Steve panted into Tony’s ear, the hot breath cascading down his bare chest as he pressed back harder into Steve, wanting the closeness.

“Soldier,” he huffed it out, rolling back to see Steve’s face as he came hard at him. He could feel every inch of the man’s body wanting more of him, begging for more of him. He wanted to give in, wanted to feel one with someone again. The warmth and heat of Steve’s lips against his was shocking, and he gasped at it. His breathing was sharp as Steve pulled him in, closer, he felt weak the man’s unnatural strength.

“Soldier.” He couldn’t help but moan under Steve, he wasn’t even sure how he had gotten into the position, hands pinned, legs open, churning his body against Steve’s, begging for him. But he was there, and he loved every second of it.

Steve teased him, holding him down, pressing in only to pull back, covering him in sweet hot kisses to leave his body burning for more. He had imagined that moment so many times he couldn’t help but prolong it.

“Please,” He begged, tightening his legs around Steve’s hips. He could feel himself dripping, begging and burning for Steve’s body to be in his, pure and naked raw forms.

“Please, Steve… Please.” He was begging, full on, and didn’t care. Ready to do anything and everything for Steve - he wanted it, he _needed_ it.

“Please-” he huffed out, grabbing, clutching at Steve’s only remaining clothing - his boxers. He got his fingers into the rim, and wanted to pull them down, but was faced with Steve’s hands holding onto his wrists too tightly for him to move.

Their eyes caught, and Steve just stared down at him, conveying so much guilt for what was about to happen.

“...Please.” Tony tugged away from Steve’s grip, staring him down so hard it burned both of them. Steve wanted to say something, something whimsical, romantic, but he just hovered, confused about if it was ok, if it was right.

“Tony-” He leaned into him, feeling Tony’s hands pull the boxers down, letting them rest at his knees. He was ready - physically - but emotionally, he wasn’t really sure. The look in Tony’s eyes told him differently, and in a rush he pressed down into him, their lips colliding into a passionate pas de deux as they truly tasted each other.

  
  


Tony tensed at the pressure, inadvertently forcing Steve to stop. But his hands grabbed onto him, and lustful eyes peered up at him as he pulled him back in, forcing himself to calm. Steve saw the wince, and wanted to stop, to give him more time to relax, but Tony wouldn’t allow him to pull away. He was almost in, just a little more and he could feel Steve’s length inside him. He would soon relax, his lips would part, and he would let out faint moans until the pleasure would become too much to simply whisper.

Tony had fantasized about the moment almost just as much as Steve had. But to him it was even more blissful than he had ever imagined. Steve was so _gentle_. He didn’t want to hurt Tony - but he knew, even with all the lubrication in the world, that he was hurting him some - and he felt guilty for it because he was drowning in pleasure.

Then Tony let out a moan, it was soft, and high toned, and it sounded almost pained, but towards the end it deepened, and he gasped for air as Steve pressed a little bit deeper, until he felt the tightness suffocate him. He tried to pull back, just a bit, and Tony winced again, clutching hard at Steve’s hands as they held his hips in place. He slowed, again, and looked over Tony’s face. His eyes were shut so tight. Steve had assumed that Tony had  tried this before. He was obviously wrong.

“Tony?” Steve moved his hand to Tony’s face, pulling back then, hoping the misdirection of attention could somehow lessen the pain. He didn’t wince, he didn’t even breath, he just laid still in the bed, holding back shivers from the sudden surge of pleasure.

Tony’s lips finally parted, and he let out a raspy moan and began to gasp for air, clinging to Steve like he’d never clung to him before. He couldn’t stop moving, he pressed hard against Steve, his legs shifting wildly about the air, trying to find that angle again, anything - anything to feel that way again.

Steve held his hips tightly in his hands, holding Tony nearly still as he pressed deeper into him, it was his turn to let out a moan. He couldn’t help it, the way Tony’s face looked in the morning light, so stricken with pleasure, the way he bit at his lip to hold back the moans, the way his chest would tighten for a moment as the pleasure consumed him.

Steve pressed harder into him, his hands drawing Tony’s hips up into a curve, he felt like he was being swallowed by the man, and he groaned, feeling the pressure on his tip was too much to bear. He pulled away, and Tony’s eyes peered up at him, glazed over with a mixture of love and raw desire for Steve.

He half expected Tony to crack a smirk, say something snarky, he almost wanted him to, so he could push in, and steal the confidence right out from under him. But Tony never said anything, not with his lips at least, but his body. He pressed himself so hard back into Steve that his eyes flung open as his back arched, he couldn’t help it, a loud moan escaped from his lips and he huffed and panted, squeaking as the orgasm spread through his body.

That was all Steve needed, to see Tony shaking with such pleasure, it was enough to send any man to the moon and back. His confidence was soaring, and with just a few more thrusts, his body began to slow after his warmth sprayed into Tony. He felt strange about it, laying there, still inside the man, not wanting to pull out just yet. Tony didn’t mind, he just laid beneath him, half awake and muttered something sleepily,

“I love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3 Love wins :)
> 
> But the darkness isn't over yet.


	12. All Things Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter of Part 1
> 
> Pain is the only thing the Avengers can truly know. Sometimes feeling it is better than feeling nothing at all.

Steve never brought up that Tony had yet to admit to his feelings. He never brought up the fact that Tony was at risk by living with him. Never uttered the idea that he should leave. He knew what would happen to Tony if he did. The man would spiral down into darkness that he would never be able to crawl out of. All Steve ever wanted to do was give Tony everything, but he never could, he always fell short. It wasn't for lack of trying. Though Steve knew eventually the conversation would have to be talked about. And soon, considering how much time Tony had been spending in the workshop trying to decipher the arc reactor SHIELD had forced into him. 

Steve had never truly remembered if what he'd though he'd done had truly been done. He had flashes of memories, flashes of merciless beatings, flashes of Tony begging for him to stop. He tried hard to reject it to dismiss it as some strange fluke because of his anxiety over their romance. But it was harder, with every passing night, sleeping in Tony's bed. The rejection he got - so subtle, Tony himself hadn't noticed he was doing it. But a good majority of it had been happening in his sleep. 

Steve would reach out to him, hands trailing across his side, wanting to touch his skin, to feel his warmth, but every time Steve's hand would close the distance, Tony's face would shift into pain, and he'd stop, instincts telling him Tony still wasn't ready. 

Of course Steve began to ponder at the less likely, thinking maybe Tony was bored with him, maybe he didn’t live up to expectations, maybe he wasn’t kinky enough, maybe it was because he was a man. He didn’t know, he couldn’t know, there were no answers. 

Even that morning, looking at Tony's slumbering face, knowing what they'd done the night before, knowing he'd brought Tony to the brink of death, body shuddering from the sheer and unimaginable pleasure he shared when Steve was with him - it still wasn't enough to shake his feelings of inadequacy. It seemed that all he had left to offer Tony was a good fuck every couple of days. Other than that there was hardly any intimacy. 

He sat up, shifting off the bed so silently that he could have startled Widow if she didn't have a sixth sense. His eyes glossed over Tony, the wall obstructing his view of the man. What had he really been thinking would happen by going back? In his gut he was terrified of hurting Tony, which was a huge likelihood. Though he hadn't the slightest idea if what he'd seen was real or not, Tony's arc  _had_ been replaced, and Steve was missing chunks of memories that should have stayed clear. 

It scared him. 

 

 

“I’ll be back on Friday.” Steve’s voice was pained, but Tony ignored it, just gave a nod and a soft mhm noise as his eyes stayed locked on the screen. Though Tony had hung up Iron Man suit ‘for good’ Steve still held the title of Captain America, and wasn’t willing to let it go. It was one of the few things in his life that he felt he could still somehow control. 

"Tony..." Steve started in, reaching out to touch him, noting the once again instinctual dodge Tony gave. He pursed his lips, letting his hand flop back to his side as their eyes met. 

"Hm?" Their deep brown kept Steve locked in place. His face pinched as another memory came rushing to the surface, Tony begging for him to stop, screaming at him, telling him over and over it wasn't him, telling him he was stronger than the serum. 

"Never mind." 

It had been nearly two years since the two of them had been at opposite sides of the field, and every time Steve thought about it - he was hurt. He had chosen Bucky over Tony. He had attributed it to knowing that Tony would eventually forgive him for anything and everything - but lately he had been feeling as though he was very, very wrong in thinking that.

 

“He’s just gotten so cold and distant.” The icy air whipped at his skin like razors, and he saw her hair flowing about the wind from the periphery of his vision.

“I’m not surprised.” Natasha had seemed to heal from the loss of her unborn son, at least enough that she could fake it. “He needs attention - constantly.”

“He never said it…” Steve sighed tapping his fingers against his shield over and over. He let it sit there, like a surfers board in the sand. “I - Thought he would’ve said it by now.”

“Why don’t you?” The sun was bright against the snow, even with the soft clouds overhead, and it forced her to squint.

“I don’t know - I don’t think he does - even if I do - won’t that just hurt more?”

“Sometimes you gotta take a leap of faith, Rogers. That’s what I did with James.”

“What?” He stood up and stared at her, looking her up and down as the smile spread over her face. “Happened 6 months after -” she took a short breath. “Happened 6 months after my miscarriage." The words were heavy in the thin air. "I went on a mission to try and keep my head focused and ended up running into the Winter Soldier.”

“Bucky, James, my Bucky?”

“He’s not yours anymore.” She said it with a tinge of callousness, her face shifting to his in a very aggressive and defiant manner. 

“Not how I meant.” Steve smiled, though it wasn't entirely genuine. "I'm glad you found someone." 

“He ended up getting in my way - and we fought it out for a while.” She smiled, a soft but full smile. Her eyes trailed over Steve, head tilting as she took in his expression. "Steve, honey." She paused, licking her drying lips as a sigh came to. "What you and Tony have... Years ago, I begged you not to let him go..." She shook her head. "You two - you're already so stubbornly in love." 

“He’s here, isn’t he?” Steve was desperate to change the topic. He couldn't keep talking about Tony, it was too stressful to discuss how he'd felt that he was giving his all to a man who seemingly was done with him. 

“You and Tony have something special, Steve. Don't let it burn out, ok?" She wasn't letting him get out of the conversation. 

The wind blew, forcing them both to duck their heads. 

“How do I say it?”

“Just say it Steve, Jesus.” She gave a heavy sigh. “For being a guy from your era and all I’d expect you to be more candid.”

“What if he rejects me?”

“Are you freaking serious?!” She threw her arms in the air, head shaking. "You've already been sleeping together!" 

“Tasha this is serious.”

“I know. It’s _Tony_ there’s no such thing as _not_ serious. Well I mean there is but -” She stopped short, trying to sort out her thoughts for Steve's sake. "He gets uncomfortable all the time, and constantly needs to joke about everything. That's his ploy." She let out a sigh. 

"Saying it though - it's a big deal still, right?" Steve's teeth gnawed into his lip, his brows pinched at the thought of the scene. He imagined telling Tony, several times, in fact. Had multiple opportunities to, as well. But every time he stopped himself, remembering some memory he wasn't sure was real or not. He couldn't imagine rendering Tony that vulnerable - and inevitably hurting him, again. He'd lost control once and killed the man, he wasn't willing to do it again. 

"Always." She laughed a little, her attention being drawn to the comm Bucky's voice echoed through. 

“We need to move in now.” She set off, leaving Steve to take the right side of the building. He had no idea the mess he was getting into - but he would.

He had his suspicions that it was a little too easy to get into the building. Hydra were stupid, but they didn't usually just let anyone literally walk into a building without guards. Something wasn't right, and it made his gut churn. His steps were silent against the floor, the only noise came from the comm in his ear, where he heard Natasha and Bucky discussing dinner. It was comical. 

He turned around, feeling heat behind him. But before he had the chance to lift his shield, something shocked him. 

 

 

"He's waking up now." The voice was strangely familiar to Steve, though he couldn't think of a name or face to whom it belonged. 

“You see Mr. Rogers, back with the super solider program was first initiated-” The lights were so blinding and bright, he could barely focus his attention on the voice, more so just the words. “We had the issue of being unable to control the soldiers. This worried the government so they developed a serum to help make soldiers more receptive to orders.” The voice was wiry, and metallic.

“You are going to kill Tony Stark, do you understand your orders, Captain Rogers?” It sounded like the Red Skull. Steve couldn't believe it.

“Red skull!” He fought against the medication he could feel in his body, wanting to say, 'Yes, Sir.' but Red Skull didn't deserve that title, or Steve's obedience.

"Yes, Rogers. It's sad how easy it was to infiltrate that S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters, and steal all their information on the Mind Serum. You'll be my puppet soon enough and you will fall! And when you do, and when your hands kill Tony Stark - then, then I will have broken the great Captain America." 

There was no way Red Skull knew how deep their relationship had gone. To him, Steve figured, it was all about destroying a team that had already fallen apart after the Accords. 

"I'll never kill Tony!" Steve's body shook against the orders he felt himself becoming victim to. 

"That's what you think. But you have a hateful association with Stark, and the more he rejects your friendship, the more you will want to destroy him!" His laugh was dangerously disturbed. It echoed and rattle the whole building. 

"You think you're going to get your way, Red Skull? You tell me, in what universe do you ever win?!" Steve shouted, wondering where Widow and Bucky were. If they had known what was happening, it was only a matter of time before someone came to his 'rescue'. 

"I'll get my way if it's the last thing I do, Captain America." His snarky response was unwanted, and unwelcome, and it made Steve rattle in the chains. 

"You'll never win, Red Skull. There's no future where the Avengers won't rally together to stop you!" He was stalling, at least he felt he was, because the serum was fully kicking in, and it was harder to deny the orders he'd been given. 

"So you think," His laugh came back, echoing through the halls. 

"I know." Steve wasn't backing down, even with the burning consuming his body, he wasn't backing down. He'd kill himself before hurting Tony. 

“Good, then we will release you back to Stark Towers, and we'll see which one of us are right," his voice was slick like an eel.

Another jolt. 

 

Steve woke up in bed, with Tony hovering over him, a soft smile on his face. Though his eyes looked more concerned than Steve cared for. 

“You’re finally up.” Tony had stopped pacing a few minutes before, and stopped gnawing at his thumb.

 

“You shaved?”

Tony touched his face, running his hands over where the hair had been. “Yea…”

“I like it.” Steve gave him a smile, letting his hands sit on his soft cheek for a moment. "You look so much younger now." He let out a chuckle, forcing Tony into a hug. He felt the flinch again. They had to talk about it. 

But it was a question neither one really wanted to talk about. It seemed that only when their hormones were at full throttle that the instinctual cat and mouse game was non existent. It was a bother to both of them that simple touches couldn't be warranted. Because they were more than wanted. 

 "You know, Steve." Tony let out another heavy sigh, trying to fight the urge to pull away. "Tasha and Bucky are here." 

"They are?" Steve pulled back, his brows furrowing as his eyes scanned Tony's face. 

"Yea... They said that they found you unconscious in that Hydra bunker." Tony couldn't help but chew on his lip, wondering what had happened to Steve, why and how he'd been rendered unconscious. 

“What do you mean? They just found me there?”

“They just found you passed out in the hallway - so I…”

“Did you… did you put on the suit?” Steve couldn’t help but smile. Part of him longed so badly to fight alongside Tony again - but he had retired, almost completely

“Yes... “

“... Thanks.” He smiled, pulling Tony back into a hug. He held him there, long and hard, wondering how long it would last. He wanted it to last forever. But he could sense the tensing of Tony's muscles. He was still trying to run away. 

“Anytime.” Tony’s voice caught. He could feel Steve try to pull back to look at him, but it was his turn to fight the urge to run.

“Why did you take so long to put it back on?" Steve's mouth spoke before his brain could even think. 

“You should be afraid of me in the suit too, Steve. I ruin everything I touch.” Tony tucked his head into Steve’s shoulder, loving every second of the connection he finally had. But he was afraid of hurting Steve, because he did ruin everything he touched, and he felt like he was tainting such a good man. 

"You - Tony, stop that." Steve pulled him in, a little too tight, and felt Tony struggling to breath, but was still not wanting to let go. 

 

The love they shared that morning was undeniably raw. Nothing could hinder their desire to make the other feel pleasure across every inch of their body. Steve had taken his time with Tony that morning, taunting and teasing him at every chance he was given. He loved having that kind of control over a man who was so constantly prancing about with such a cocky confidence. Tony didn’t mind it either. He loved being brought so close to the edge only to return unsatisfied - part of him enjoyed the taunting.

They had heard Natasha and Bucky a few times, talking in the hall as they passed by, never really making note of what it was they talked about. They were too preoccupied with their own life to be too keen on anything else going on. Eventually the morning faded to day, and day to night, and they laid in bed, tangled together. Tony looked so peaceful like that, in such utter bliss. His life was so perfect, nothing could ruin what he had finally managed to obtain - and he was ready to live a bright future with Steve by his side - the only man whose opinion of him really mattered.

 

Then the pain struck him and he came from his pleasant dream with enough screaming to wake all of the city. His eyes teared up, and he looked up the man he loved, gasping for air that wouldn’t come. The tears spilled out, spread down his cheeks, pooling on his chest. Blood splattered across Steve’s face as he held the reactor that began to dim under his clutches as his sheer strength cracked it.

Tony’s hands reached up, eyes shaking with confusion, trembling in pain as he clung to the last few seconds of his life - watching as the man he loved tore his artificial heart from his chest. His finger grazed Steve’s face, eyes begging for an answer he would never receive. His breath slowed, and he released the last gasp of air he had, his eyes locked onto Steve,

"Steve?" Traitor. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really appreciate any comments and feedback. This work definitely went in a different direction than I thought it would go, and I'm thinking about writing another one that is based on what happens in this story but I'm not sure.


	13. Surreal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve's loss of reality is unbearably hard on him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY!! Sorry for the shortness but I needed to get an update out there again and doing a short chapter to guide the story seemed like the best direction to go in.

“Tasha!” Steve’s voice was broken in the air. Laced with lack of control, but drowning in sorrow. “SOMEONE?” He could barely speak through the tears. What had he done to Tony? He didn’t remember, he couldn’t, it was a blank slate in time, completely empty. “Someone, help!” His voice kept cracking under the brutality of an emotional barrage. They kept coming, swift, like an army striking to render its enemy useless.

Tony laid on the floor, still and  lifeless with a giant gaping hole in his chest - where the arc _should_ have been. Steve hadn’t a clue how it happened, but saw the shards in his hand, pieces of metal and glass poking into his blood riddled palm - and assumed he’d been the one to do the terrible deed. His eyes shook as they scoured over Tony’s body. He’d never felt so entirely helpless in his entire existence.

“Tony,” his voice was hidden beneath the stampede of teammates rushing into the room, wide eyed and gawking at the lifeless body Steve clutched to with his last strain of sanity. “No, no, no, no, no, no, no…. Please no, no, no, no, no!” He repeated himself, over and over, everyone too afraid to approach. “I don’t - this isn’t… This isn’t what was happening!” He screamed, rage consuming him. “I don’t know what’s going on! TONY!”

He cried, clutching at Tony with everything he had, begging for it to be a dream, a terrible nightmare - anything but real. He couldn’t take it, he couldn’t, there was no world that existed in which Tony died. Ever. He refused to believe it.

Making heads or tails of the situation was more than difficult, for all who looked upon the gruesome scene. Tony’s chest covered in blood, bits of metal having been torn from flesh, leaving ragged pieces of meat behind where metal had clamped and mended with skin.

Shards of arc pieces scattered on the floor, where Steve had apparently thrown the bits after they crushed beneath his hand. Small bits still glowed as the element struggled to stay alive in its form.

It looked like a murder scene. It was a murder scene.

 

“Steve?” Natasha’s voice cut into him, his eyes shifting to her, she had never seen so much rage in her life - not even in Bruce’s eyes. So much rage, so much confusion, so much soul searching. It was terrifying, and it took every ounce of her training to keep her face from twisting at the realization that Steve was nowhere in that body.

“What is happening to me!?” He cried out, Tony’s body moving with every scream he made. Hands still clung to the lifeless but warm body beneath him, desperate to undo what had been done. He was so lost in his own mind, memories raging and mixing together, nothing seemed so real or so fake. Lucidity was a foreign concept. He could breath the air around him, it felt like sucking in smoke.

“I don’t know what you mean. You need to calm down.” Her voice had shifted, something much less soothing and much more commanding. She had taken the lead, taken it so many times. Steve knew that voice - without a doubt that was Widow’s voice, not Natasha’s, Widow’s.

“Something is wrong with me.” His words were filled with hatred. He had to tell someone, had to explain everything he’d been feeling. “I’ve killed him so many times - I don’t know what’s real anymore.” He had to get it out, had to have someone help him sort through the insanity.

  


“What?” Head tilted, narrowed green eyes, her body was ready to go full fight mode with Captain America. “Out with it, Rogers. All of it. Now.” There was that Widow tone again. Her head nodding, the small change in physical behavior enough to negate his original intentions.

“This world...” his head shook. “I don’t know what’s real and what’s not…” He looked back to her, eyes still shaking in disbelief. “In every conscious mind I have - every memory, every dream….” He looked away, “I kill Tony.”

She stepped back, head lifting as her eyes analyzed the validity of truth he held in his statement. She was satisfied. There was nothing in Steve’s words, nothing in the way he held himself, that made her ponder if he had meant what he said.

“What’s the first memory you recall?” She dropped her head back to him, eyes narrowing in on his movements.

“We don’t have time for this! I have to save him!” He tried to stand, falling as Tony’s body slumped over him.

“He’s dead, Steve.” She paused, eyes so fixated it felt like she was burning through him. “There’s no bringing him back from that.” She looked down at Tony, eyes glancing to the arc reactor lying shattered on the floor. She was right. Tony was _gone_. There was no force on earth that could bring him back from that state.  

“No…” Steve shook his head, pulling Tony into him. “You’re wrong!” He stood, trying to move passed her. He was met with a quick thrust, and stumbled back, eyes staring her down with that same rage and confusion. “Please!?”

“You need to tell me what the hell is going on. Now.” Though her voice was still speaking softly, her words held an unrelenting tone.

“I told you! I don’t know ! My memories... they're all mixed up! They’re all too real!” He cried out to her, still holding Tony’s lifeless body in his arms.

He tried to move passed her, shoving her to the side only to be stopped by Bucky who had remained silent during the ordeal. Even then he couldn’t bring himself to look at Tony’s lifeless and bloody body. It was all so surreal.

“Steve -” she moved towards him. He noticed the shift in her stance. She wasn’t ready to battle, her eyes weren’t as harsh. They were more concerned.  “What happened with the accords?”

“What?” He stepped back, wanting to avoid her, feeling repelled by her. “Tony and I had different opinions and… I… I took my shield and I…”

“And you... What?” She moved towards him, again. Her eyes looked over his body, watching as the muscles twitched and contorted as he tried to pull further away.

“I pierced through his suit and killed him.” He brought his gaze to hers, their eyes locked on each other, neither faltering in their beliefs.

“Steve…” she shifted, voice growing concerned with every passing second. “Tony…” She licked her lips, pulling in the bottom just before releasing it with a heavy statement, “... he killed _you._ ” She kept her eyes on him, watching the wave of confusion rush over his face. Blue eyes trembled, moving with violence against the stillness the rest of his body offered. She could see the tension disappear as the immense truth clutched his soul and heart and ripped him to shreds.

“What?” his voice slipped, airy, almost inaudible.

“Tony… he… he killed _you_. Not the other way around.” Her eyes narrowed in on him, analyzing his every move, pondering at what he could possibly be thinking.

 

“Who am I?”

 

Rendering Steve unconscious was not an easy feat. It never had been, but they’d accomplished it on a few occasions. Natasha knew how to distract him long enough for Bucky to do what he was best at help Steve. Though the form of helping was a result of pain - it worked.

There was more than a lot to discuss among the Avengers. Tony was dead, Steve was losing his mind, and the Avengers were being skyrocketed to the top of the most wanted list. No one on the team had any idea what things were truly at play.

There were forces at work they were all falling prey to, unaware and blind to the chaos that was befalling them. From Steve’s ‘memories’ to this strange actions he’d committed - something was plaguing their reality. They had little chance of standing against it - except one. She was the answer to the riddle, the key to the puzzle. She had within her mind, the truth - a truth so deep and honest it would shatter their _reality._

She had in her, the ability to show their deepest fears, being revealed, to play tricks so convincing in their minds they would crumble into nothingness. With her, Natasha could reach the truth of Steve’s mind - find out the truth of his actions - if they were real, a dream, some fucked up reality in his insanity.

That was slightly terrifying. To all of them. To think, that there was a chance that they had all been some made up memory, a fake world, a fake truth, but that they all felt so real. It seemed unrealistic, to have a consciousness inside a fantasy - but the looming fear was all too real - their existence true or not.

“Wanda.” Natasha’s green eyes scanned over the young girl, taking in her expression. Picking apart her discomfort wasn’t too hard. The way she stood, so guarded, curved into herself, eyes bouncing about from person to person as she approached the massive man tied to the bed.

“Steve.” She gulped, eyes red from the power that ran through her body. “I am going to help.” She wasn’t honest with that. She had no idea if it would help or not, if it would hurt him or not. She had no idea what things she would reveal to herself, let alone the others, or even Steve.

Her work was something of deep interest to the team. All their eyes were locked onto her, watching as her delicate pale hands moved through the air, red ribbons of energy trailing behind every stroke of her fingers. Eyes sharp on Steve, a jolt, and the energy consumed him.

He shook, convulsed, groaned and even screamed as the memories were sorted and pulled and drilled through until they had found the root. The one thing that had caused such misalignment of reality.

“What?!” The image faded, Wanda stumbled, falling back. “What… What…” Her eyes were wide with terror, chest heaving at what she’d seen.

“Wanda, what did you see?” Natasha approached her, arms still crossed. She was too aggressive for Wanda, and in a flash of red, the Widow was slammed into the wall with a giant ball of energy holding her.

“You’re not real!” She looked around the room. “None of you are real! This isn’t right!” She shrieked, her power overwhelming the room. “This is not what was supposed to happen!”

“Wanda!” Natasha’s voice screamed into the room. The tension of the energy on her body was burning through her skin. “Please!”

“This isn’t real! THIS IS A TRICK!”

Steve’s eyes opened, Wanda’s face before him. “Wake up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yea - Wanda lost her shit lol. Um essentially - if you didn't catch it all - Steve's getting memories from all the other timelines in which the Accords (Superhero Registration Act) result in the death's of Tony Stark. In each reality sometimes they're friends, lovers, work partners, etc, etc. He's beginning to _really_ struggle with sorting it all out.
> 
>  
> 
> Again, sorry for it being so short ^_^'


	14. Sweet Dreams Are Made of Lies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sweet dreams are made of misery. For the mind concocts lies to comfort itself from destruction. Lies are unearthed, and Steve has hard decisions to make.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to apologize for the lack in update, but I was very... unhappy with this work. I actually reached a point of wanting to delete it entirely because it just doesn't seem to be living up to my expectations. I've spend the last week editing it and finding a good story line to follow instead of just having strange things happen. enjoy
> 
> *** POSSIBLE SPOILERS *** 
> 
> Agents of Shield references! If you haven't finished all of season 1 do not read!

Steve was torn from the lucid nightmare by the screams of his teammate. He hadn’t remembered crawling in bed, let alone attempting to sleep. The last he had known, he was prepping for a mission with Bucky and Natasha. He couldn’t tell the difference between dream and reality, fantasy, existence. He was lost in a vortex of unknown reality dispersion. 

It was hard to focus. Hard to see that Tony was still sleeping next to him. It was even harder to hold to the dream that was slipping into the abyss as his consciousness took over. He sighed, running his hands through the shagged blonde locks. He needed a haircut. His eyes caught Tony’s shifting body. A nimble hand outstretched to reach over rippled muscles, cupping against Steve’s peck. Instinct took him, and he placed his hand over Tony’s, holding it with a passionate and gentle firmness. 

“You have a bad dream?” Tony sniffed, his eyes still closed, voice raspy in the morning air. Hidden brown life rested behind soft skin, covered in long lashes. His face was perfect to Steve, everything he’d ever wanted to see in the morning. 

“Yea.” He nodded, though not sure if he was being honest or not. He hadn’t a clue if it was true or not. It felt real - felt like his muscles had gone through the torment - his mind felt torn. 

“You wanna talk about it?” 

“Tony…” 

“Yea?” His throat cleared, eyes finally opening. Deep brown chocolate, mixed with the blue oceans, colliding together a world of need and desperation as the two dove into the others soul. 

“I don’t know what’s real anymore…” Steve’s voice quivered under the building stress. He fought hard to be the one in control. Tony had needed him to be strong, needed to lean on him, needed someone to rely on. 

“What do you mean?” He sat up, hand rubbing across Steve’s naked chest. Pinched brows expressed worry and concern. His dry lips licked by a dry tongue to bring a hint of moisture to the heat. 

“What happened with Bucky? The Accords?” His voice was pleading. He didn’t want to hear, “What?” or “You don’t remember?” His voice was drenched in fear, terror, that something had happened he didn’t know of. He was sick of secrets. 

“I wanted to sign them, and you didn’t.” Tony sighed. “You know, you were right.” Pursed lips kept his mouth from speaking the truth he needed so desperately to utter. 

“It’s not about being right, Tony.” Steve shook his head, finally sitting up. “It’s about protecting people.” 

“I know.” Tony gnawed at his lip, pulling his eyes away from Steve’s. Something painful was hidden beneath the surface of the deep brown. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“Do you… remember what happened?” Tony’s hand shifted to Steve’s, eyes still avoiding the depths of his ocean like blues.

“No.” 

 

There was a pause, Tony’s heart fluttered. His lips opened to speak, but stayed silent, unable to find the words to express their fate. The touch alone, hand to hand, leg to leg, it was hard enough for Tony to overcome that instinct to run. He desperately wanted to be tangled in Steve, under him, looking up at him, breathing him in, tasting him, every part of him, knowing it to the core, to be one with him. 

“I…” He spoke, barely able to keep his voice from cracking under the severity of the admission he was giving. “I killed you, right?” Steve’s voice shattered, tears streaming down his face. He pulled away from Tony, hands covering his eyes. He could never avoid the sin he’d committed. He was in hell. 

 

“You… what? No.” Tony shook his head, hand reaching out to touch Steve again. He stopped, letting his hand pull back against his body. “Steve… Why do you think that you killed me?” 

“Because - the mountain.” 

“You shouldn’t remember that.” 

“What?” 

“I’m sorry.” Tony pulled back, shifting away from Steve. “There’s a project… Steve… S.H.I.E.L.D. is still active.” He shifted his stare to Steve’s. 

“What?” more lies, lies upon lies, not one person could explain things to him, clear his mind, allow him to understand.

“Steve -” Tony took in a sharp breath, fighting back the urge to cry.  “I killed you.” He brought his eyes to Steve’s. Fear had taken his face. 

“No. Tony I went to court I went to the mountain to save you!” 

“No.” He shook his head at Steve. “Those were falsified memories… They were to prevent you from remembering what had actually happened on the mountain.” 

“What are you trying to tell me?” Steve’s voice fell, disbelief laced every word he spoke. 

“I killed you. I killed you and I couldn’t save you - but the director. Fury, he did… He took you to a mountain, somewhere… changed the outcome, brought you back.” 

“I don’t know what’s real!” Steve threw himself from the bed, pacing around the room. Tony was quick to his aid, grabbing his arm to hold him steady. 

“Things have happened to both of us, Steve!” Tony cried out to him, begging for understanding. “You died! I had to bring you back!” 

“At what cost?! Why do you get to play God?!” Steve pulled away, slapping Tony’s hands from his arms. 

“Steve…” Tony’s head dropped, he talked to the floor. “I couldn’t lose the only person in the world I love.” 

“What?”

“I love you, Steve.” He took in a sharp breath, lifting his tear riddled eyes to look at Steve’s deep blue’s. “I love you more than anything, I couldn’t lose you.” 

“But I remember beating you - Tony.” 

“You did.” Tony’s head shook, he was trying so hard to fight off the real memories. “You - in the… the machine they used… T.A.H.I.T.I. is a way to reform new memories after bringing someone back from death.”

“You… Tony…” Steve pulled back, head shaking. “You had no right!” 

“I love you! Dammit! I’m not going to lose anyone else! I can’t Steve! It’ll kill me!” He reached out to Steve, slapped away again. 

“I killed you! I remember!” 

“It never happened! They were falsified memories - but then you saw me in downtown, at the Brewing Flower. From then on the lies started to unravel, you remembered me. We had to find another way to integrate you back into my life… The goal was to make you think I died, that, during the accords someone had taken control of your mind and forced you to kill me. Fury assumed that…” He paused, fists clenching as the name slipped from his lips. “Bucky, you had so much forgiveness for him doing what he’d done with the mind control, that you would forgive yourself.” 

“I remember killing you so clearly.” 

“I swear, Steve, it never happened.” Tony reached out again, greeted with a soft touch. Their eyes locked. He’d never seen Steve so desperate in his life. 

“Fury thought I’d forgive myself for hurting you? Because of some mind control?” Steve laughed, shaking his head until tears ran down his face. 

“He thought that - if he reinforced the lie that the Red Skull had somehow brainwashed you it would help you accept what had happened. But I had to stay out of sight. I was supposed to lay low, you were never supposed to see me again.”

“But I did.” Steve pulled back, looking down. “I saw you at the Brewing Flower.” The true memories were flooding in.

“Yea. I wanted to see you. I missed you so much. It didn’t feel like home here without you. I had to see how you were doing.” Tony reached out again. Fingers grazed tight skin, clammy from misery.

“You messed with my mind, Tony. You played God. You brought me back from death.” Steve shook his head, pulling back. “You had no right to.” 

“Steve, please, please, no, don’t… Please don’t do this.” 

“I can’t Tony. I’m sorry.” He retreated, towards the closet. Always had a bag packed to run away. 

“You’re gonna run away? Again? You won’t even - you won’t even humor me with an attempt to save this? Am I just that easy to throw away? First, my parents, then Pepper, Natasha - my unborn son even left me, and now, out of everyone I thought would always have my back, who would always stand by me... you’re leaving me too?” Tony’s words broke against his tear covered cheeks. 

“Tony - what you did-”

“Yea, I know. It was wrong, it wasn’t right, but - dammit Steve, even if I lose you, I’d do it all over again. Just to see your face one more time, to hear your voice, to look into your eyes. I’d do it over and over if it meant just 5 more minutes with you.” Tony’s jaw clenched, watching as Steve placed the bag at the foot of the bed. 

“Tones-” Steve reached out to him, pulling him into a deep embrace. “I need to sort out my head.” 

“Please don’t leave me. I’m so alone.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it's short, I know. I'm sorry, but undoing things I've done, and trying to somehow mend new things into the mix is a littler harder than I'd originally anticipated. 
> 
> However, I hope everyone is in clear understanding as to what has happened. I took the TAHITI project from Agents of SHIELD. (If you haven't watched it, I suggest you do, it's a really great show! I wish they tangled in a bit more with the movies but - hey, its ok.) Essentially, I'm following more or less a mix of two endings. In the comics, Steve is assassinated, in the movies Cap looks like he's about ready to kill Tony, but he doesn't. He writes a douchey letter, Mr, Douche Bag who I adore. You douche!
> 
> All I know is that, if I did this chapter properly, you should now realize that Steve never actually killed Tony, even though in his mind he did. So Steve is going to be, over the next few chapters, sorting out false memories with real memories, with the help of... DUN DUN DUN, Tony's brain thing, which also... DUN DUN DUN. is the same fucking think they use in TAHITI. DUN DUN DUN 
> 
> Fuck I'm a geek


	15. Who am I?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Tony have a lot to talk about. When Tony finally tells Steve everything, he may have done some irreparable damage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOOOOO sorry it took so long to update, and I'm also sorry it's kinda short! All in all once I finally got passed my writers block I pumped this bad boy out in an hour ish? I did a quick proof, but I'm also exhausted AF! We're short staffed at work so everyone's been working 40+ and it's starting to catch up to me! ANYWAY hope you all enjoy...

 

“I can’t stay here. I can’t look at you and know I did those things.” Steve’s grip on the prepacked duffel bag hadn’t loosened. Even as it sat on the bed, his grip was hard on the strap. It was a hard scene to look at, especially for Tony. Looking up at Steve and seeing him unravel because he had kept such a secret from the man, knowing that Steve had yet again lost trust in someone, looking at him and seeing the ache - it was unbearable. Even _that_ betrayal, even knowing exactly how Steve was feeling, it still wasn’t enough to stop Tony from trying to fix things.

“You didn’t do anything!” Tony stood from the bed. The rush to his feet wasn’t anticipated from his constantly dehydrated body and he felt himself falter. It was enough to gain a bit of worry from Steve, but not enough for the soldier to actually move in any small attempt to help Tony as he stumbled to regain balance.

“I beat you, Tony! I beat you so fiercely!” If anything it was more clear that Steve needed as much space from him as possible. He stepped back, pulling the bag with him. His voice was stern and unwavering, a sound Tony dreaded because he knew that there wasn’t much he could do to change the man’s mind - if anything he could do.

“Please!” All the playboy could do was cling to Steve, arms clutching at him so wildly he felt like an utter fool. He prayed that his display of unease and vulnerability would be enough to keep Steve around. He begged to a god he wasn’t sure existed to keep the man in his life. His eyes shook, and nails dug at flesh as tears fell from his eyes. He was incapable of speaking, incapable of breathing, incapable of being.

“Tony, stop!” Steve pushed his hands away, rougher than he needed to. It sent Tony to the floor, on his knees. His shoulders shook as the tears fell. He’d never imagined losing his composure so fiercely before. It wasn’t all due to Steve, either. That was what had brought him over the edge, but so much more realization came crashing down on him - nothing could free him from the bonds of his anxiety.

He’d failed, again, to protect the ones he cared for the most, and the hole in his chest would only grow and devour him like a black hole. His soul was nowhere to be found in his deep brown eyes, and he was sure, in an instant, that he was in hell.

“You need to calm down.” Steve took a knee, fingers lifting Tony’s glistening face so he could peer into the deep abyss of his eyes. “You need to breathe, Tony.” His voice was so soft, a whisper, something commanding but comforting. It was a voice Tony had only heard him use a handful of times. Almost every time it was in private, with Natasha, usually. On occasion he’d heard him mutter to himself with that voice, as if attempting to convince himself of something he’d truly not believed.

“You’re going to be ok on your own.” As soon as the words fell from Steve’s lips Tony felt himself losing his small grip of control over his own emotions. He grabbed at Steve’s wrist, holding him so tightly he thought he could split the man’s arm in two. He opened his mouth, nothing more than a grunting squawk of a noise piercing into the room. Steve didn’t falter. He was so _calm_ , so in _control_ of everything. He was a hard man to sway.

“Tony,” he whispered. His voice was so soothing, something Tony craved and longed for, something he knew he would lose if he let Steve leave.

“Atlas 41.”

 

“Lockdown initiated.”

 

The tower went dark at the sound of JARVIS’ voice. The loving touch Steve offered disappeared and Tony was left to stare into a black abyss no one could see in.

“Tony, what did you do?!” Steve called out. He knew where Tony’s general location was, even if the man refused to talk, he knew _where_ he was. “Why did the tower go dark!?” Steve reached out, fingers grazing against Tony’s chin. He felt for something more stable, something to rationalize where he’d touched. Lips. He cupped Tony’s face into his hand, felt the heat of more tears, and leaned in. “Why did you lockdown the tower?”

“I can’t lose you.”

“You’ll lose me even more if you make me stay here, Tony.”

“I won’t let you leave.”

“Let me go.”

“No.”

“Tony.”

“No, Steve.”

“Anthony, lift the lockdown, now.”

“No, Steven. I’m not letting you get away.”

 

Full names were something the two had _rarely_ ever used. There was a sentiment of anger that constantly resided in the depths of birth names. It was something Tony and Steve had both fought hard to avoid. They had childhoods that were best left in the dark - and birth bearing names were too closely related to the memories to use.

“Dammit, Tony! Lift the lockdown! You cannot keep me as a prisoner!” Steve pulled away from him. His eyes had dilated to the fullest but he was still incapable of seeing in the dark room. It was too black for anyone to see.

“No.” Tony spoke but his words were void of emotion. He sounded robotic and automated, he’d lost too much to show his emotions.

“You said I did it! You admitted that I beat you! Why would you want me to stay here with you?!” His voice was loud. It shook Tony’s ears so much that he turned his head away from the point of origin.

“You did do it.”

“Why?!”

“Because - the same reason you’re angry with me now.” Tony reached his fingers into the air. The soft khaki met his skin as he spoke, “You found out I saved you.”

“Don’t touch me.” Steve stepped back, crashing into something metal. The loud clang was enough to break their ears.

“Are you ok?” Tony reached out again, feeling Steve’s shoes with his hands.

“No, I can’t see a darn thing!” Steve called out. Tony couldn’t help but chuckle at the annoyed sentence. _Darn_. It was, to Tony, adorable how Steve still censored himself from time to time. Something about the super soldier was still so innocent and naive, untouched and untarnished by the world.

“What are you laughing at?” Steve stepped forward, immediately falling back onto his ass at the yelp Tony gave when his foot landed on the genius’ delicate fingers.

“Shit!”

“Are you ok!?” Instinct took Steve’s body to Tony’s level, and, even without sight, he managed to find Tony’s hand to coddle it.

“Yea…” Tony mumbled, head dipped away from Steve. “Please don’t be angry with me.”

“How can I not be?!” Steve, even for just the small moment, had forgotten about the whole thing. “You - I… I beat you. I _beat_ you. Tony. That’s not ok. It never will be. I can never take it back!” Steve tightened his grip on Tony’s hand, held it so close to his lips that hot breath was tingling away at his sensitive wrist.

“I-I know.” Tony gulped, a mixture of things were caught in his throat.

“I just - I can’t imagine ever hurting you like that - but I did.” Steve’s voice came out as a whimper, his eyes danced about looking to see Tony’s face. The darkness denied him his desires.

“Let me - show you.” Tony’s hand cupped Steve cheek.

“Simulation: Atlas: Recall.”

“Are all logs of me labeled as Atlas?” Though Tony couldn’t see Steve, he had a very good idea at the expression he had. He imagined it was something soft and curious - but happy.

“Yea.”

“Is it because of the plane?”

“Because you’re as hard to navigate as an atlas.”

 

Tony’s confident smile as his sappy line was hard to see in the light blue glow that erupted over the room as JARVIS initiated the simulation. Steve’s face was quickly forced into displeasure as he saw a rendered version of him laying in strike after strike onto a begging and pleading Tony.

‘Steve, ple-’ coughing and bleeding, Tony begged in the simulation for Steve to stop. He pleaded with such a great deal of disbelief that it was hard for Steve to watch.

‘Steve!’ Tony’s screams were even harder to hear. He’d never imagined a situation in which he would ever rationalize hurting the man so severely.

‘You traitor! How could you sell out to Hydra!?’

 

“What?” Steve’s head snapped so fast to Tony’s face that he had felt as though he broke the sound barrier. “You - you sold out to Hydra?!”

“It’s not what you think!” Tony clawed at Steve’s hand, begging for him to understand something incomprehensible. The log froze.

“I’m pretty sure this isn’t something that can be easily misunderstood, Tony! Did you or did you not sell out to Hydra?!” Steve stood, pushing away Tony’s repeated attempts at contact.

“Not the way you think! Please, let me explain.” His fingers reached up and grazed Steve’s waist.

“What is there to explain, either you did or you didn’t!” Steve pushed Tony’s last touch of affection away so roughly that the man fell to the floor and onto his hands.

“I did!” He looked back up at Steve, eyes shaking as tears fell over. “They found you. They _had_ you. They were going to _kill_ you, Steve. I _had_ to help them. _Please…._ **_Please_ ** understand.”

“You can’t sacrifice the greater good for one person, Tony! You can’t just decide who gets to live and die!”

“And you do!?” Tony rustled against himself, too weak to really fight or argue, but too stubborn to back down. “You get to decide that you get to die because you don’t want to make that call?”

“That’s not-”

“You think that there are only ever two options! You think that it’s either hurt others, or be hurt, and it’s not! There are always going to be other ways at resolving the conflict!”

“Don’t act like you have this all under control, Tony! You sold out to Hydra!” Steve pushed into him, forcing Tony to stumble back.

“You don’t even know what I did!” He found some confidence hidden in the recesses of his mind. His feet locked him into place, eyes so narrowed on Steve he was drilling through the man’s conscience.

“I don’t need to! All I need to know is that you gave them something! That’s enough!”

“You think that just because the bad guys got some dirt on me, that I betrayed you?” Tony’s scoffed. He shook his head as his tongue ran over his teeth. He was annoyed at the thought, found it humorous.  

 

“...Dirt?” Steve’s head twisted, eyes hard on Tony’s.

“You want to know what I told Hydra, Steve?”

“Tony…” Steve reached out to him. In a quick moment his face was concerned, no longer angry or annoyed, but fearful.

“I told them -”

“No…” Steve shook his head. His hands moved to Tony’s shoulders. He wasn’t prepared to hear what he knew was coming. Tony had given them the key to his downfall. Tony had given Hydra the answer on how to defeat Captain America.

“Yup. I told them how to defeat **me**.”

  
Tony hated how much he meant to Steve, because he’d always known that eventually Hydra would come after him, and that when they did, Steve would be the one to pay the price.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh, me and my CORNY AF lines sometimes LOOOOOLZ. 
> 
> Um yea, that whole Atlas thing was actually something that kind of organically happened? But I love the reasoning I gave behind it, I guess? How Tony's excuse is because Steve's so hard to "navigate". So I was like, an atals is a book of maps so this makes sense, thanks subconscious for being such a bro :) even my inner brain ships Stony x'D
> 
> I also don't mean to make Tony the "center" of Steve's universe, but essentially he is... I mean they even sorta reference that in the comics and the AA and shit so like yea...


	16. Traitorous Son of a Bitch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After finding out that Tony was "working" with Hydra, Steve loses it, again. Sometimes it is impossible to mend a relationship, Tony knows that all to well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So much aaaaangst

“How could you do that?! Do you have _any_ idea-”

“It was the only way to save you!” Tony screamed out at Steve, moving through the small space between them. “God damn I’m so sick and tired of this same thing! All the time with you!” His hands flung through the air, up in defeated annoyance. “Jesus fucking christ, Steve!”

“Stop it, Tony! I don’t need you to protect me! I can take care of myself!” Steve barked back at Tony, moving a step closer to him.

“Yea, that’s very fucking obvious! You don’t _even know_ what the hell happened to you!” Tony snapped back, staring at him with more hatred and anger than he’d felt even towards Bucky after he found out the truth.

“I don’t need to! You shouldn’t have done that, Tony! Ever!” Steve moved in again, they were close, inches from each other, staring the other down, sizing each other up. His eyes scanned over Tony. Something worried was hidden in the depths of his deep brown eyes.

“I couldn’t lose you, not again!” Tony pulled back, caught off guard by Steve’s grip.

“Again?”

“What happened after - Bucky -” He fought off the urge to cry. The one thing, the one person he’d managed to hold onto was falling apart, falling away. “I-”

“Tony-” Steve’s grip loosened. He was caught up in the moment just as much as Tony. He hadn’t filtered it, only responded in the heat of the truth. He hadn’t _understood_ any of it.

“Steve…” Tony’s jaw twitched as his eyes searched for the words to say - what he desperately needed to say. “I’m completely _alone._ ” Tear covered eyes lifted to a blue gaze so lost and angry that it took every bit of strength in Tony not to hold Steve. “I couldn’t let you die. I’m sorry. I would rather have you alive, hating me forever, than to lose you again.”

“But-”

“Steve, please. You… You’re the only thing holding me together. I need you… I _want_ you.” Want will always outweigh need. To be unable to carry on without something, or to willfully choose to have something. Want is more valued than need, in every aspect.

“Why.” Steve questioned Tony as his hand fell from Tony’s wrist. “Why would you want someone like me? I can’t give you anything you want, Tony. I can’t give you what you need.”

“That’s not what I want.” Tony shook his head, turning away from Steve. “I want you to just…” He sighed, taking in a sharp breath for confidence, because there was no liquor around. “I just want you to live. You deserve it. You’re such a hero-”

“And you don’t? You aren’t?” Steve moved after him, guiding Tony’s face with his fingers. He wanted to look at the man, take him in, understand his reasoning for what he’d done.

“No.” Tony shrugged off the touch, tearing his eyes from Steve’s. He was still too desperate for affection, any sign of love and he’d lose his inhibitions. He’d accept endearment from anyone. Steve didn’t accept the rejection, and brought his hand back to Tony’s face.

“Stop.” Steve stepped in, face to face with Tony. “Explain it.” So much unresolved tension still rested between the two. There was so much left unsaid, and so much they refused to say.

“I don’t know why you think it’ll change your mind this time.” Tony kept his eyes away from Steve’s still too afraid to falter under the man’s presence.

“Tony.” He pressed in, again, taking in a shallow hot breathe as his eyes scanned Tony up and down. “I’m trying.” He pressed up against the man, no space between them.

“What?” Tony’s eyes were forced back to Steve’s at what he’d said, how he moved, how he pulled him in.

“I’m trying to give you a second chance. Don’t waste it.” Though Steve still didn’t believe he was worth saving - especially not if it meant giving Hydra any intel - there was still a part of him that knew he would likely do the same thing for Tony.

“I love you.” Tony spewed it out. His eyes met with Steve’s and he watched as the surprise took Steve. He’d said it before, but every time it was like the first time. “I love you. I couldn’t let them hurt you. I couldn’t. I would gladly lay down my life, to save you. There’s no other way around it this time. I guess I had to be on the wire, so you could crawl over me.”

 

“You should’ve cut it.”

 

“I would have if I could have.” Tony pulled away from him, looking down at the floor. His eyes stayed down turned, he was too afraid to look up at Steve. He wasn’t lying, and that was the hard part. He’d told Hydra _exactly_ how to kill him - which meant he’d told them _exactly_ how to destroy Steve. Because the chances were, that if he lost Tony, he’d lose himself into the world and become a destructive maniac capable of more damage than Hulk.

Funny thought, a man like Captain America causing a severity of damage that outweighed the antics of Thor and Hulk constantly gallivanting about the city with their childish duels. But, Tony knew it was all too much a real possibility. Steve had already shown, very clearly so, what he was capable of when someone stood on the opposite side as he did. He’d known that so closely to his heart that a part of him was completely broken by it.

“We could have found another way if you’d told -”

“No.” Tony shook his head, laughing as he brought his eyes back to Steve’s. “You think I didn’t try every angle, Steve?” He shifted his head to the side as Steve stepped away from him. “I tried-”

“I won’t let them hurt you, Tony.” Steve grabbed his arm, moving back in. He stared at perfect brown eyes, watching as fear faded and desperation took over.

“Steve -”

“I love you.” Steve’s grip went soft. “This isn’t how it’s supposed to happen. You can’t- I won’t let them hurt you. We can fix this.” Steve felt the flex of worry in Tony’s bicep, forcing him to let out a soft sigh. “I promise.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Soldier.” Tony brought his gaze to Steve’s, a smile hidden beneath his eyes.

“I’m going to fix this.”

“I’m sorry I fuck everything up. I’m sorry I tainted you. I should have left you alone. I shouldn’t have dragged you into this.” Tony pulled away from him, pushing Steve’s hand away. “I shouldn’t have told them - I was so broken up - I thought losing you would kill me.”

“Stop.” Steve reached after him, again. His fingers grazed against Tony’s shoulder, finding comfort there even though the man had turned away from him.

“I - I messed up.” He mumbled more to himself than Steve.

“No, you did what you thought was right. Tony, tell me what they know.” Steve tugged on Tony’s shoulder, beckoning for him to turn around.

“I told them -” he took a sharp breath. He’d already planned for the moment so many times that he knew he could spill the lie over with ease, and that Cap would never really know. And everything should play out just right, just perfectly so that no one would ever know the sacrifice he’d made for everyone.

“What?” But Steve’s face before him, made the lying endeavor a lot harder. Lying straight to his perfect countenance, knowing he was one of the last people Steve expected betrayal from, was _grueling_.

“It wouldn’t matter if I told you. Steve, please, trust me when I say you can’t fix this.” He shifted, so apprehensive about it all. “You can’t undo what’s already been done to me.”

“To you?” Steve’s brows furrowed and he once again, moved into Tony. “What did they do to you?” He was no longer looking at his love, more like analyzing him, looking for small cues that it wasn’t really Tony..

“Nothing. Stop.” Tony swatted at his hand, keeping his eyes off Steve. “It doesn't matter…”

“Tony.” Steve stepped back. “What did you do?”

 

“They implanted explosive nanobots into my bloodstream. If I defy them, or if you get too close - they’ll kill me.”

“So, so, so you can just -- you can fix it, right?” Steve panicked. His eyes darted around the room, reaching the corners of his mind to find an answer he didn’t have. “We can - there’s gotta be something!”

“There’s nothing I can do Steve. They’re self replicating. Even if we filtered through my blood they’d just keep recreating themselves and -”

“No.” Steve shook his head, hard, with one swift strike. “I refuse to accept this.”

“It’s fine… I chose to do it - it was better than the alternative.”

“What? How is my life more important than yours?! You’re Tony _Stark_ . **Tony** **_Stark._ ** You are the hero of today. I was the hero of yesterday. I can’t do this without you, Tony. I can’t do this if I don’t have you. I can’t, I can’t do it at all . I can’t survive in this world without you. I’m not a genius. I can’t do anything you can - I can’t even - I just…” Steve rambled, eyes shaking as the realization washed over him. “Tony… I can’t - without you.”

Tony had never seen Steve look so worried. He’d never seen him so uneasy and confused and unsure of his next move. The man always had a plan, seeing him so broken up over such a “small” thing was strangely liberating. Not that he wanted Steve to be upset - but finding out he’d meant so much to Steve made his heart race.

“You might have to. I can’t fight this. I don’t know how…” Tony’s head dropped, chin nearly to his chest. He was more than ashamed at his actions - but he knew he’d truly do it all over again if it meant saving Steve.

Tony had never been so sure of everything in his life until that night had come. He wanted to explain it all to Steve, to see if somehow he could forgive him for doing what he’d done. He wanted to save Steve, he had to save Steve. He was too much in need and desperation to have lost the man that day.

Tony still couldn’t remember exactly how they’d been captured. All he’d remembered was the mountain, and how _real_ it was. He remembered how Hydra hooked him up like a supercomputer, used his brain to filter through so much information. He remembered bits of it, even after it was said and done. He knew so many of their secrets, bases, plans. He kept it all hidden from Steve, he couldn’t tell him. He knew what would happen. He knew that Steve would go in, and he knew that it would end up in him dying - and he knew that Steve would lose his mind and more than likely wind up dead.

“You have to find a way. I can’t…” Steve gulped, bringing his shaking eyes to Tony’s. He wasn’t ready to lose the last thing he had. He only had so much trust left in the world, and it was all resting on Tony’s shoulders. He wasn’t prepared to lose him, he wasn’t prepared to lose anyone. He never wanted a slow goodbye. He never wanted a quick one. He never wanted a goodbye. Not with Tony.

“Steve…” Tony winced out a smile, reaching out to his shaking Steve. “It’s gonna be ok. You’ll be ok.” He tried to reassure a man so strong on the verge of breaking.

Trembling muscles, convulsing under the weight of emotions too strong and overpowering for one person to bare. But he stood his ground, though tears streamed down his face, darkening the gray fabric of his shirt, he kept his head up. Showing Tony how broken he was, how wounded he’d become over the thought of really losing him. He’d lost him once, even if the memory was fake, even if he hadn’t truly killed him - he felt every bit of the pain as though it were real.

“Steve - please…” Tony mumbled, reaching his hand to Steve’s face. He wiped away at the tears, feeling the hot pressure of Steve’s cheek against his palm, dry and chapped lips against his wrist. His heart fluttered at the contact. He was very much still falling so insanely in love it stung at his common sense. “Stop crying…” Tony’s brows pinched, his face twisted into a frown. “Please don’t - I - I’m sorry.” He was fighting off the urge to squall.

He’d broken Steve down, again. He’d let him down, again. He’d wounded him, again. He’d fought him, again. He’d ended up on the other side, again.

 

Again he’d failed someone who meant everything to him.

“Cap… Soldier… I promise, you’ll be ok.”

“I can’t be, not without you. I can’t do this without you. Please, Tony. Please. I need you. I want _you._ I can’t let it end like this.”

“You can’t put me before the rest of the world, Steve.” Tony moved into him, his arms tangling around Steve’s head, hands running through blonde strands of perfect hair. “I will always love you.”

“Tony - no. I- I can’t… I can’t - not knowing… not knowing it’ll-”

“You have to protect the world. You have to shield them from everything that is evil in this world. Please.”

“I can’t, Tony.” Steve sobbed against Tony’s cheek, clutching him so tightly it hurt. “Please, please, no. Don’t make me do this. I’m begging you.”

“I’m sorry, Cap.”

“I love you, Tony. I’m sorry I took too long to say it. I’m sorry I took too long to accept it. I’m sorry I took too long to -”

“I love you, Steve Rogers.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea when I'm going to end this thing haha.  
>  ~~Sorry for the angst~~


	17. I said Seppuku not Sudoku

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Farewells are never easy.

“I can’t stop this though.” The words stung at Steve’s ears. He needed Tony, more than ever, more than he could even comprehend. His dreams were collapsing around him as a reality and he could hardly differentiate between anything. 

“We can find a way, together.” Steve’s eyes shifted to Tony’s, moving over the very obvious worry on the man’s face.Seeing the pleading look on Tony’s face was hard, watching the mans shaking eyes as the gravity of the situation began to weigh on him was too hard, and Steve averted his gaze.

“You always think that, don’t you? That by doing it together we can do anything.” Tony gave a half hearted laugh, something somewhat true, though drenched in despair. “I wish it were that simple, Cap.” He let out another chuckle, shaking his head for only a moment before Steve cupped Tony’s face in his hands. 

“I saw you in a dream once, with blue eyes like the ocean.” Steve knew what Tony was thinking, watching the awe slip over his face as words of admiration came from Steve’s lips. “I remembered looking at you and wondering, ‘Is this real? It can’t be.’ And you took my hand, rubbing your thumb over some scabs.” Steve mimicked the motion against Tony’s hand. “And I knew it wasn’t you, because - because you would never touch me like that.” He lifted his stare to meet Tony’s. “I think - I think this is still a dream. I think I died and I’m just in hell. I’ve been… There have been so many of you - and every time it fails. We just… We just aren’t meant to be, are we?” 

Steve struggled to hide the pain in his eyes. He let go of Tony’s hand, as he pulled his palms to cover his face, unable to control the sobbing. He dared not speak through his tattered gasps for air - it would only create more frustration for the both of them. 

“Stevie…” Tony reached out, hands sliding against Steve’s shoulders until he had the soldier tucked beneath his chin, holding him with a firm gentleness only a lover could supply. “Stevie… don’t cry. Please…. Some… someday you’ll make someone happier than you can - can - ever…” Tony was always better at hiding his sadness. “Imagine.” 

They sat in heartbreaking sadness. The room was cold, and dark. Something gray came about the scene, though their touches were warm and brought life. Steve’s head stayed tucked against Tony’s collar bone, muffled sobs still squeaking out of him. Tony knew that Steve was crying for a lot more than he let on, and it felt bitter-sweet to be the shoulder he could lean on. 

The blankets rustled beneath them as Steve adjusted himself, pulling back just enough to get a rise out of Tony. His grip tightened on Steve, and he murmured until the soldier forced himself upright. 

Tony gave a more audible qualm, but gave up on trying to force Steve to sit with him any longer, he was sure that the man was getting sore from the way he had been leaning into the strange embrace. He kept his eyes down, feeling as though Steve was too distraught to even look him over. 

“Why do you think…” Tony started in, sighing in dismissal at his own intellectual quips. He hadn’t a reason to really ask what he was concerned with, as though it mattered anyhow. 

“What?” Steve’s hand grabbed at Tony’s chin, redirecting his gaze to meet the blue eyes that had taunted him since childhood. 

“Why does the universe bring people into your life who make you better, who make you happy, who make  you want to really live, just to keep them at arm’s reach?” He shook his head, fiddling away with a piece of wire he’d found on the floor. 

Steve mulled over what he wanted to say - what Captain America wanted to say, but it wasn’t what  _ he _ wanted to say. He wanted to say, “I don’t know. I don’t know why we’re both here, staring at each other, on the same page, and still unable.” He wanted to grab Tony, pull him in and never let go. But he couldn’t.

He couldn’t, yet again, have someone who made him truly happy, who made him a better person, because once again something got in the way. There was always something stopping him. But - so long as at least Tony was happy, he’d be ok.

“Sometimes it is necessary to suffer so you can truly appreciate -” he stopped, looking up at Tony. 

He scanned over the saddened look in the pools of brown that still managed to twinkle bright in the dim room. He watched as his eyes shifted from him, to the floor and back up again. The minute movements in Tony’s hand that screamed his anxiety was shooting through the roof. The way he pursed his lips, just to lick them and release them whilst a slim sigh escaped the chapped skin. 

“I - I don’t understand why we are both meant to suffer so much, Tony. I don’t understand why you’ve had to endure so much pain and act - or feel the need to maintain like everything’s ok. I don’t know why we’re in each others lives, when - when we both still seem so afraid to just… be. But…” Steve grabbed Tony’s fidgeting hands and held them still. “Even if the universe keeps trying to tear us apart - I will always love you.”

“Why can’t we just be together?”

“Because life is cruel and unfair.”

 

A long silence came, they both just held each other’s hands, stroking over the skin. Tony’s  delicate thumb, though rough from hard work, smoothed over Steve’s cuts and scabs, etching in every detail to his memory like a map. 

Steve memorized the way way Tony’s lips would curl into a smile every time he’d get a small tickle from Steve’s fingers trailing along his wrist. 

Neither one realized how much time had passed until the sun was streaming in through the window, and they woke tangled up and warm. Hot breath fell against warm skin, clotted and sweaty from the body heat. Blue eyes met brown, awkwards laughs, that held genuine happiness, filled the room as mumbled ‘I love you’s’ escaped lips more openly than ever before. 

But they both knew what was coming, and they both knew there wasn’t much that either could do to prevent the goodbye. And it hung so heavily in the air that they suffocated on its toxicity. Darting glances, as they refused to leave the comfort of the sheets they wrapped themselves in. Quivering lips, and fingertips that begged to touch and reach out, but stayed perfectly still in place. 

There was so much heat between them, so much lust, so much love, so much insane desire and desperation that neither knew how to confront it, especially not head on. 

“Steve…” Tony’s voice spoke more than a name ever could. Steve didn’t want to hear it, either. He shook his head, trying not to break under the pressure being placed on him. 

“Tony - I should…” 

“I  _ am _ sorry Steve.”

“I know that. I know that, Tony. I do. I really - I do.” He nodded, too many times, much more than necessary. But he couldn’t stop, it was the only thing preventing him from crying. 

“I fucked up.” 

“Yea.” Steve nodded harder, shaking his head soon after. “You can’t do this… I can’t. I’m still so angry, but I love you so much, Tony.” 

“Maybe… maybe this is just one of those dreams you keep having.” Tony laughed, trying so hard to play it off like it was all ok. Nothing was even remotely close to okay.

“Does anyone know what you’re planning?” Steve reached his hand over to Tony’s. The intensity in which his hand met with Tony’s was unparalleled. It was like the meeting of their skin created an entire new world of love in an instant. 

“No.” Tony stared at their met hands, trying to hold back a smile. It was hard to ignore the twitching curl of his lips every time Steve stroked against his knuckles. 

“Nat has a right to know.” 

“I agree.” Tony shifted his eyes to Steve’s, losing himself in the sparkling blue. It was something beautiful, the way they looked at each other. The way Steve would stare at only Tony, and the way Tony would melt into the ponds of blue. The way Steve could hardly tell where Tony’s pupil was. How the man’s deep brown eyes would sparkle with an orange hue one moment, and become pits of a loving abyss that seemed never ending the next. 

The beauty confounded Steve, and brought him in for a drink at every second. He dreaded the thought of never looking into those dark beauties again. Never seeing the twinkle when Tony had an idea, never feelings the heat of his angry stare. He halted at the thought of seeing Tony’s eyes lifeless, and dead, all at the hands of the Red Skull. 

“Everything ok, Cap?” Tony tipped his head down a bit trying to pull Steve’s suddenly averted gaze back to him. 

“No. No everything's not ok.” He dropped Tony’s hand. “This is about the furthest from ok I think things have ever been between us.” 

“Steve-”

“No, no! No, Tony!” Steve stood up, throwing his hands through the air. “I am not going to let you walk out there and just hand yourself over to Hydra!”

“There’s nothing to debate right now! There’s nothing I can do!” He stood up, moving after Steve. “You think that I haven’t tried to figure this out? You think I’m that self destructive?!”

“Yes!” Steve turned back to him, arms half raised in the air. 

The room was thick with discomfort. 

Tony paused. 

“I’m sorry…. But it’s not like you haven’t done self depreciating reckless things in the past, Tony.” Steve licked his lips, drawing in his lower lip to chew on the delicate flesh. 

“There’s honestly nothing I can do to fix this, Steve.” 

“But-”

“Nothing, ok?” He dropped his hands to his side. He was defeated. 

The lack of affection from his counterpart was hard to bear. And while Steve truly hoped that he was indeed just dreaming, something wretched into his heart that it was all more painfully real that he was ready to accept. 

The sound of Steve’s feet leaving the room left an aching echo in Tony’s ears, so loud he couldn’t hear his sobs. He’d tried so hard for so long to keep his head up, to force that smile, to try and scream for help without having the right words. He was lost in the pain again. 

The door gave a hiss, locking shut. What had he agreed to? Preparing him for the inevitable seemed like the best solution at the time - but in reality what good was to come from him dying? Even if it was by his own hand? What would the world be without Iron Man? The Avengers? Where would they stand in a universe of nothing but pain and misery?

“J?”

“Yes, Mr. Stark?”

“Record this for Steve.”

“Ready when you are, Sir.” 

 

He sat himself at the foot of the bed, staring down at the floor, then to his hands. They shook, without much effort. He was scared - he was terrified. His head dripped with sweat, eyes glistening with the tears that streamed down his face. 

“I thought.” He paused, forcing a laugh. “I thought I had everything I’d ever wanted when I met Pepper. I thought for once in my life I was going to have some real happiness. Something tangible, something I could hold onto, something that would give me reason to live. But then - when things happened the way they did, and I lost her - I thought that was it, with Rhodey - with everything - with my entire life falling apart around me… I didn’t have much left. And when you - when they got you. When they - when everything that happened… Steve I’m… This… Ugh.” 

He ran his hands through his hair, leaning forward. Forearms rested against his thighs, as his fingers twiddled together. 

“I killed you. That’s the truth. But none of it happened like you thought. You did pierce my suit, and I was stuck there while I watched you leave with Bucky. And I hate you for it. I hated you because I, I thought I was enough for you. I thought you - I thought you wanted me back then, but you still picked him over me. And I just had this realization that no matter what, I will never be enough for anyone. I’ll never have what they want, or what they need, and I’ll be alone. Maybe that’s - that’s just what’s meant for me? Maybe I’ve done too much damage to this perfect world to deserve happiness.” He laughed through crying, choking a bit on air. 

“I came after you. And I found you - and I know you don’t remember, but we had a fight. On the stairs of a courthouse, and someone - shot you. All I remember is running to you, looking over your face, and the blood from your mouth wouldn’t stop coming out, and I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know how to fix it. I couldn’t take it back. I want to take it all back.”

“I know they didn’t tell you, they didn’t tell anyone about T.A.H.I.T.I. I… I took you there. It was in that mountain. It’s a shield base, was, is, I’m not sure, by now it’s probably overrun with Hydra. That’s the mistake I made. Bringing you back. I… I couldn’t imagine not having you anymore. I’d lost everyone else. I needed someone, I needed you. I  _ need _ you. I never expected - I never expected this insane course of implanted memories to get so chaotic. I never expected you to lose sight of reality. It was all for you - and yea, I shouldn’t have made the call. And I’m sorry that you’re mad, and I’m sorry I let you down - but dammit Steve, I’d do it all over again if it meant you would get to live. I’m sorry I told Hydra, I’m sorry that they will eventually kill me. I’m just sorry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no excuses for this insanely late update. I'm sorry.


	18. I spoiled the Surprise, Didn't I?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Surprises are the best, if you don't have anxiety.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have no idea what I'm doing with this story anymore. someone ask me to do something with it.

Steve received the message about as well as anyone could have expected. And there were a lot of tears hidden in his dry eyes. Yea, he refused to cry, not again, not one more time for a man that clearly didn’t love him the way he thought. And it hurt, it hurt like nothing he’d ever felt before. And it was hard to breath, hard to eat, hard to focus on anything other than feeling like he wasn’t enough. 

It was so interesting how similar the two revered the other, but managed to keep such opinions hushed. Had Steve opened up, shown the side of him that felt unworthy of love, perhaps things would have played out differently for them. However, it would have been even more likely for things to end in the chaotic way than they had between the two if he’d chosen to come clean about his self loathing. Though in all likeliness, Tony would have been able to help him with coping and working through it all.

Too little too late, though. 

 

He muddled around the tower for a while, wondering how Tony was managing to still pay for the building, considering he’d disappeared from the face of the planet. He gave it about two weeks of sleeping in Tony’s bed, and sitting in the closet with the clothes he’d left behind before he finally decided to get up and go. Anything would be better than staying in that tower alone for one more day. 

Sure Natasha and Bucky, Thor, and Clint reached out to him. Several times. And he faked his way through every phone call. Telling them not to worry, that he was alright, and he’d see them soon. And as soon as the phone would click into silence he’d fight off an avalanche of tears that were more catastrophic than any real avalanche mother nature could dish out. 

Turning off the lights - that was harder than he’d been expecting. Seeing the A on the top of the tower, knowing it used to say STARK, the A for the Avengers - and knowing it all fell apart into millions of bits that were swept under the rug. It made it too difficult to watch as the neon faded. The loss of luster and light was like allowing a dark shadow to reach over the world. Steve took a deep breath, squaring his shoulders, lifting his head. Fake it. Fake it until you can’t fake it anymore. 

The roar of his motorcycle was comforting in the cold night. The icy air blistered against his face as he sped down the road, on his way to Sam’s. He hadn’t any other idea of where he should go. He didn't Call ahead either. But he knew as soon a Sam saw him that he would understand the situation. 

Sam’s place was small. But it was enough for the two of them. The rain was pouring down when he got there. He was drenched from head to toe by the time the door was opened up. Sam held back a laugh, but let a thin smile creep over his face as he stepped back to let a thoroughly soaked Steve inside. 

“Say it.” Steve shook his head, droplets of water flinging through the air.

“So it’s raining huh?” Sam’s small smile stretched into a big grin. He crossed his arms and nodded down the hall for Steve to follow. “So it’s not much, I’ll can get to cleaning it out tomorrow, but here you go.” 

Steve peered into the room. His hand made rough contact with Sam’s shoulder, and he forced a smile at the man. “Thanks man, I really appreciate this.” 

“It’s alright. Are you - ok?” Sam turned to look him in the eye. “Don’t lie to me. If you aren’t tell me, alright?” 

“I’m… surviving. But I wouldn’t say I’m ‘ok’.” He let out a sigh. “I don’t really-”

“Wanna talk about it. Alright, alright.” Sam waved a hand at him, dismissing the conversation. “Hope lasagna is cool with you for dinner.” 

“Yea, sounds good to me.” Steve tossed his bag onto the bed. It was a drab room, but it was still somewhere to sleep without the constant reminder of Tony being gone shoved into his face at every turn. 

“Alright, it’s got about 15 minutes to go and then it’ll be ready. Try to get settled a bit, sound good?”

“Yea.” Steve smiled, giving him a good firm nod. “I’m gonna change though.” 

“Alright, you know your way around.” 

“Yea, and I’ll be sure to tell you this time if I‘m going to shower. I don’t want an ice wash like last time.” 

“Hey! Not my fault!” Sam laughed, remembering exactly what Steve was talking about. He shook his head as the humor died down. Steve watched as he faded into the kitchen, down the hall. 

He turned back to his bag and started to pull out some of the clothes he’d packed. Somehow, one of Tony’s shirts had ended up in the mix. Steve usually wore solids, no prints, at least not logo’s. And there it was. A black sabbath t-shirt. Staring him in the face. Taunting him. It had been a few minutes, not even a damn hour and he couldn’t escape it. He couldn’t escape Tony’s decision to leave. 

“Dammit.” Steve shoved it back into the bag, moving with a lot more anger than before. He pulled his shirt off and threw the wadded wet mess into the corner of the room. The slapping sound it made against the wall was enough to wake him from his tantrum. It was enough to make him understand he had every right to be angry. He had every right to be overly emotional. He had every right to react whichever way made him feel better. 

He slumped onto the bed, trying to focus on the minotinist task before him. Trying to focus on taking his boots off, so he could take his pants off, so he could change into something dry, something warmer, something that didn’t smell like their room. 

Nothing didn’t. Everything smelled like Tony, everything reminded him of Tony, everything reminded him of the moments they shared. Everything reminded him of the man that destroyed him. The man that made him so vulnerable and then walked away. 

“Dammit, Tony…” He brought his hands to his face, covering his eyes, trying hard to hold his shoulders steady. He fought off crying for a while, and he’d gotten fairly good at it. Pressing his palms hard into his eye sockets made it easier to repress the emotions that begged to show themselves to the world. 

He denied them again, shook it off, took a deep breath and exhaled slow until he felt the rush of sadness being pressed back down. He shifted around until his pants were off, took little time into changing and joining Sam in the small kitchenette. He seated himself at the table, and found a cup of hot coffee in front of him not a moment later. He smiled down at it, and then to Sam.

“Thanks.” He shifted his gaze back to the dark black liquid, taking in the bitter scent. He brought the cup to his lips and smiled as the warmth filled his mouth. He kept his lips against the cup after the swallow, shifting his eyes to the window by the sink. The rain rattled hard against the glass, streaks of light were visible through the crack in the curtain. He swallowed down his agony and shifted his gaze back to Sam. 

“Smells good.” 

“Thanks, my ma’s recipe.” He smiled down at Steve as he sat across him. He plopped a plate down in front of Steve, and one before himself. “It’s just got a bit longer and then we can eat.” 

“It’s alright I’m not too hungry as it is.” 

“Even with your high metabolism?” Sam tried to joke with him, nudging his arm. He got a faker than fake smile from Steve. He didn’t press any harder though. He accepted the distress his friend was in, and tried to understand it. 

“It’s alright.” Steve gave Sam a nod, knowing full well his heart was in the right place. He pulled the cup up again and took another sip. It didn’t taste right. It was good, decent coffee. Sam wasn’t a barista or anything - though he made do. Something about it was just  _ off. _

“You do like black coffee, right? Cause I have cream and sugar if you want.” 

“We’ve never struggled at small talk before, Sam. If you want to ask something just ask.” 

“That obvious?” Sam let out a sigh, leaning back into the chair with his arms going over the back of it. 

“What’s up?” Steve let go of the cup, leaning back himself, arms up. 

“Is it… hard?” 

“What?” 

“Well I mean… You and Tony had already been through so much. I mean there was Natasha and the baby, and then you two finally seemed like you were ready, and it was so short lived, and it’s like it burned out so much faster than it should have.” 

“It’s hard, yea. It was never not hard. Things between Tony and I have always been very complicated and complex. It…. he’s… a stubborn man.” Steve let out a sigh, running his hands through his hair. “I think the hardest part is that I was so adjusted to living with him - it’s like there’s a huge gaping hole in my life right now because he isn’t here anymore.”

“Nothing’s the same?”

“Nothing’s even remotely the same.” 

“I’m sorry, Steve.”

“I am too. I understand why he’s gone, I get it… but it still hurts. It’s like I wasn’t enough for him to change his mind.”

“What?” Sam laughed, or rather snorted at the remark. “You think that you weren’t enough? Steve, you idiot.” Sam shook his head, standing to take the lasagna out of the oven. 

“What?” Steve’s voice was slipping into defense. 

“He left because of you - to protect you. You don’t remember everything that happened between you two because of the thing they did to your brain - but trust me when I say that Tony did everything in his power to save you. And I mean, it’s not like he voluntarily went to Hydra. Well he did but… he didn’t -” he plopped the glass dish onto the table. 

“Wait, what?” Steve shifted in his chair, leaning into the conversation. 

“Well… Ok, so after you were shot and everything at the courthouse, they transported your body to a secret SHIELD base. Tony found out where it was and went in to find you. Come to find out, it was actually being run by Hydra. They’d infiltrated SHIELD and were deep inside. Tony was captured. He… said he saw them doing things to you that shocked him so much he couldn’t move. He never told anyone about it - but I imagine for him to be frozen like he was it must’ve been pretty bad.”

“Why didn’t he tell me any of this?!” Steve shifted to stand but Sam slammed him back into the chair. 

“Because, Tony loves to take the blame for everything, Steve. You know that. Hell, he’d probably rather have you angry with him rather than having you be angry with all of SHIELD.” He pointed his finger at Steve. “You have to let him cool off.” 

“That’s just it, Sam.” Steve let out a laugh, shaking his head. “There’s no coming back from this. At least… he doesn’t think there is.” He leaned into his hands. 

“I wish I could reassure you, but there’s a chance you’re right.” Sam seated himself again, crossing his arms with a sigh. He kept his eyes on the window, staring at the pitter patter of rain against the glass. 

The sound of the drops rang loud in the silent room. Steve’s small breathing was only barely audible over the tip tap. He struggled to keep his head level. He was angry, and sad, and felt jilted because of Tony’s decision to ‘protect’ him. And he understood it - that was where the majority of the pain was from. The sheer acceptance of Tony’s actions knowing full well he’d do the exact same thing given the chance, and situation.

The phone rang  loud into the room, shocking both Sam and Steve. Sam reached over to the wall and pulled the corded phone to his ear. Only a handful of people had his number. 

“Yea?” He shifted his gaze to Steve, looking a bit bewildered. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold on, what?” 

“Who is it?” Steve leaned in a little, restless in his chair. 

“It’s Natasha.” He waved for Steve to grab the cordless from the other room. With a quick step he picked up the phone halfway through Natasha’s story. 

“- due May 29th.” 

“Wait, what’s due?” Steve peeked back into the kitchen to see Sam’s smiling face. 

“Steve - I’m pregnant.” 

“Oh.” 

All he could remember was Tony crying in a hospital, crying when he lost his unborn son. Crying when Steve held him. Crying and screaming at Natasha. All he could see was a broken Tony. 

“That’s great.” He lied. And more than anything he wanted to be happy. But how could he be? How could he lie to her and tell her he was overjoyed with her wanting to make him the godfather. How could he stand there and not hate her for risking another unborn life. 

How? But most of all, how could he blame her for it all? How could he think she intended any of it? How could he be so monstrous?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yea, no clue what to write next.


	19. No Typo's Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony's visited by some old friends. They're quite helpful in clearing his clouded mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only two days late. Don't kill me

Tony would have taken that news and been over joyed. And of course, had he known, he might have come out of hiding. But he didn’t, he couldn’t have known, because there was no one who could tell him. He was alone in his solitude, suffering in isolation that made sure to keep Steve and the others safe. He was quite literally a time bomb. And every day he was granted another day to live was simply because they wanted to kill Steve and he was nowhere near their means of his destruction. He had to keep his distance, it was the only thing keeping them all alive. 

Of course Tony knew that it was only a matter of time before they found a way to track him, and that when they did he’d be faced with an even more difficult decision than leaving Steve. Freedom always had a high price. And it was his job to pay that price, always had been, always would be. But the decision that was weighing on him was when to pay the toll.

He took a deep breath, shaky hands reaching for a bottle of scotch on the bedside table. He’d been in that shack of a home for a long couple of months. And every ticking minute was stretched out by the loneliness that plagued him. He wanted, more than oxygen, to call Steve, to tell him where he was, to just hear his voice. So he played a recording he had, on repeat, just like every night, staring down a blue glowing LCD screen to try and fill the void that was left in his body. 

But to no avail. The solitude was still maddening, and he’d no one to comfort him during his final hours on the earth. No one except a Mr. Jack Daniels.. Oh, he was just about the best company in the world, except that he forced Tony to own up to his self hatred in a less than therapeutic way. The bottles lining the floor, and counters, made proof of that. It was a wonder he was even alive. 

Whilst he grabbed the bottle with a firm grip, he failed to find the correct coordination to bring the glass to his lips, and instead slipped to the floor, legs sprawled out, liquor pouring into a pool beside him. He groaned, something that wasn’t even close to a word, and chucked the bottle to the fireplace across him. 

Of course the alcohol quickly burned. In a bright burst, the had been orange hued room turned a bright white, and within a moment the light simmered back down, leaving only small traces of tears staining the cheeks of the over worked. Tony took in a shuddering breath and brought his hands to his eyes. 

“Pepper…” He muttered to himself, reaching to his phone. It sat still on the bed, still playing Steve’s laughing voice. Still echoing back what they’d had one bright morning before their world fell apart.

_ “Tony, stop!” Steve laughed, pushing at Tony’s hand, trying to hide from the man recording him. “Breakfast in bed does not include recording me.” He lifted his hand away from Tony’s, pulling his chin up for a stolen kiss.  _

_ “Just recording this for proof I can be loved.”  _

_ “Tony…” Steve curled his arms around the man, pulling him in so close he could feel his heart thudding away. “I will always love you.”  _

_ “I’ve heard that before.” Tony tucked his nose into Steve’s arm, trying to believe him.  _

_ “Always.” _

_ “And forever?”  _

_ “Always, and forever.”  _

 

“Pepper…” He scratched at the phone, scrolling through the names on the screen. Her face showed up, and he stopped, staring with tear filled eyes at her soft smile, so coy and inviting. He pressed the screen again, and lifted it to his ear. 

“Tony?”

“The one and only.”

“Tony, where are you?!” Her voice was rushed, and worried, like she could hear the self destruction in his voice.

“Halfway between here and there...” He hung up. 

 

A couple more months crept by; slower than the movement of a snail. And he wished nothing more than for it to just flash to the end where Hydra would inevitably storm in through the front door and carry him away. He’d leave a message for Steve telling him to refuse their demands, that his life wasn’t worth anyone's, not ever again. He’d be broadcast across the nation, possibly the world, being tortured, refusing to say what they wanted, staying true and strong until his last breath, until they detonated him into oblivion. 

Tick tock. 

 

Every night he played that video on repeat, watching the glimpses of Steve he’d managed to record. Watching the reflection of their kiss in the window when he’d dropped his phone, watching as Steve pulled him in with a need and want so great it was suffocating them both. He’d play it on a loop, keeping the hole in his chest just as wide as ever before. Every night he’d hear the man he’d loved so deeply that he never thought it was possible to love again, promise to love him for all time.  _ Always and forever _ had become words that were so deeply ingrained into him that the slightest utterance of them cloaked him in a grief he could hardly escape. 

Liquor made it so much easier. Liquor made it so much easier to bury the pain, to bury the hurt, to bury his feelings of betrayal against a man who had vowed to love him for all time. His motives were pure, no matter how painful the outcome. But there was a small problem. He was out of alcohol. And he laid down shuddering in a bed as his body went through withdrawal. While he went through the pain and agony of his body cleansing itself, he was forced to confront his demons. 

And that meant seeing Steve sitting across him, teary eyed. Every second, of every day, until he was out time. 

_ “You know, I’m glad you left me. I have no idea why I ever would’ve thought someone like you deserved someone like me.”  _ Most days it hurt. 

“I’m sorry.” Tony shivered, closing his eyes to try and run from Steve’s angry stare. It never worked, because the words just wouldn’t cease.

_ “I can’t believe I ever loved someone like you. Someone who just ducks down and hides, who refuses to confront things head on. You took the coward's way out. You’re a coward, you always have been and you always will be.” _

“Steve, please-”

_ “What? Please what? You think you don’t deserve this? You left  _ **_me._ ** _ Remember? You deserve every second of this hell you’re going through. You’re going to die in this little hell hole all alone and miserable. Justice finally served.” _

“I know.” Tony shifted his body up, staring across to what his mind made him believe was Steve. “I just… before this is all said and done, before they finally get to me-” he coughed, hacking up blood. “Before… they take me… Please, one thing.”

_ “What?” _

“Always and forever, right?” 

_ “You ended forever when you walked away from me.” _

“I just wanted to protect you. I wanted you to be safe-” His voice faltered as he tried to yell, and fell short between a stern voice and a father coughing in the early morning. 

He slipped off the bed and landed with a hard thud onto the floor. He tried to shift himself back up but failed, only able to lift his eyes to Steve, who was no longer Steve. No, dark brown eyes stared back at him. A heavy sigh was let loose as the man stood and grabbed Tony’s arm to lift him. 

_ “Get up you drunk.”  _

“Rhodey?” Tony slurred his words but managed to lift himself to at least an upright position. 

_ “What’s gotten into you? You think you can keep him safe by drowning yourself in so much liquor that your liver gives out?”  _

“You… it’s withdrawal…” 

_ “Get up. On the bed. I’m not letting you give up on this yet.” _

“You’re just a manifestation of my emotional need for affection.”

_ “Doesn’t make me any less real.”  _

“Actually it does.”

_ “Tony, shut up and do what I say if you ever want to see Steve again.”  _

“I can’t risk it, Rhodes.” Tony sat himself on the bed, unaware he’d even picked himself up off the floor and managed to stand. 

_ “I’m not asking you to risk it. I’m asking you to use your goddamn brain for a second. Hydra put little robots in you, right?” _

“Yea, well… sort of. They’re self replicating explosive nanites.” 

_ “Ok, and  your original idea was to em pulse them, which you can’t do because of all the reactors acting as a heart beat and arteries, right?” _

“What are you-”

_ “You can program them, Tony.”  _

Tony’s brain shot through the haze of the detox upon the epiphany. He shifted around in the bed and rummaged through the bedside drawer for his laptop. He pulled it out and popped the thing open. He’d have to set the programming up before leaving the shack. He’d have to have everything ready so that when he got back to the tower he’d be able to hop into the suit repair console and adjust it to administer a shock wave of programming to his body. 

His fingers clacked at the keys, slower than usual. He’d wished he’d made the discovery at the tower, he could just direct JARVIS on what to do. But he was alone, and had to reorient everything on his own. Not like writing code was  _ hard _ or anything. It was mostly just typing.

Every cell in his body ached for alcohol. And, yes, he wanted to drink, because it would numb the pain that he felt for once again defying the sweet release of death. Part of him felt strangely responsible for being so evasive of the Reaper, and he’d come so close to just giving up. He, of course, believed more than anyone that he deserved nothing but the torment he was in, which was perhaps the very reason he fought so hard to stay alive, so he could continue his penance. 

He trembled as his fingers slipped from key to key, though to his mind it sounded like he was typing a million words a minute he’d barely managed two lines of code, and he had several hundred more to write before he could even fathom a way in actually leaving the shack he’d called home. The more daunting part of the plan was getting to the house and making sure it was all set up while Steve was out - or possibly home. 

He knew the risk of leaving the shack to go home. And there was a high, high, high chance that Hydra would track him immediately. He did, however, have the option of warning Steve, but how painful would it be to think that he could possibly get Tony back - and then for Tony to fail?

It was better to keep Cap in the dark, until everything was guaranteed. Of course he had a few ideas of how to “warn” Steve. He could contact Romanov, or Banner, or even Barton - Sam perhaps. He just needed to make sure Steve wasn’t at the tower. Hydra’s endgame was to get Steve and Tony close enough for destruction. 

He’d never really come to a full understanding of  _ exactly _ what they were planning, but he’d had a good guess that with the self replicating nanites having been mixed with the arc-teries, that their goals were to either control him with them, or to… boom. 

Of course he’d hoped it more the latter than the sooner. He’d rather explode and take Steve with him than be forced to watch and scream in silence as his body committed a sin he could never take back. 

And he imagined how painful it would be, realizing that was exactly what had happened to Steve, at least in his memories. Tony had never truly died, but Steve had, and the memories they implanted, or the memories they shifted around, had haunted him for months. Tony was left putting the pieces back together. 

He never wanted to be on the other side of that, all he wanted was to hold Steve, to whisper to him everything he’d longed to say, everything he’d had the chance to say and never said. But the clacking of the keys slowed, and his eyes blurred, and he could barely breath. The bed seemed so inviting, and sleep called to him. 

He couldn’t remember what day it was anymore, or how long he’d been there. How many hours had gone by since the withdrawal started. How long until the end? How many more lines of coding? Why did he run away? 

Steve was just as willing to die, in his arms. But he left to protect someone who would rather die than be alone. He left to keep him safe, knowing full well what emotional torment would chase Steve. He fought the urge to sleep, forcing his hands to continue tip-tapping at the keyboard, eyes closed. No fear of a typo. He let memories overwhelm his consciousness, hoping his mind could handle the task of coding while he remembered more perfectly that video he’d played on repeat. 

Remembering the taste of Steve’s breath in the morning, the scent of black coffee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so glad my brain was like, "HEY, remember that really cool show you watched where the nanites ate electricity? And that guy worked for google, and the nanites talked him into re-coding it because they were disintegrating? Yea, do that. "  
> Cause I legit wrote myself into a corner and have been like HOW TO FUCK DO I FIX THIS?!?!?!?


	20. What Do You Mean You Don't Know How?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve remembers why he fell in love with Tony in the first place, thanks to the aid of a sweet and innocent girl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the wait, our dogs have been getting sick and I've been stressed to the max.

“I can’t help but feel a little guilty.” Steve’ voice rang over the table in Sam’s kitchen at a far too early hour. He glanced at the coffee in his hands. Sam caught the look of guilt over his face, and took a deep regrettable breath in. 

“I’m probably going to regret this, but why?” He let out a sigh and shifted his eyes to Steve’s worry stricken face. He looked over the lines that had grown far deeper over the past several weeks, or had it been months? He honestly couldn’t remember anymore. All he knew was that it felt like an increasingly long time that Steve had been staying with him. He wasn’t complaining, but the man looked like a wreck, especially after hearing the news about Natasha being pregnant. 

Steve still held it against her, and was highly disgusted with himself for doing so, and yes, more than anything he wished that he could stop himself. Set his mind straight, so to speak, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t fathom why she would be so willing to risk loss again. It made him wonder if she had felt the same intense pain that Tony felt, when he was pacing in that bleak and gray hospital. He’d remembered how he and Tony had not spoken for a while, and how his thoughts raced as he made his way through red lights to see Tony. To comfort him - to attempt to comfort him.

The memory seemed so distant, like it was nothing but a dream. But he knew that the pain was anything but a dream. He knew how destroyed they both were after it. He could see the depression over Natasha’s face, the sorrow that lurked beneath her tired eyes. He even remembered seeing Tony just holding her, sobbing - that was before the fighting got bad. 

He was in such a strange situation - because, at that time, Steve wanted Tony, and he was well aware that he did, but he also wanted Tony to be happy. Even if it meant it wasn’t with him, but being exposed to the pain, first hand, that wasn’t something he was sure he could do. 

“It doesn’t matter.” Steve’s voice ripped a sigh into the overly tense air, eyes catching Sam’s. “Sometimes, I wonder about myself.” 

“Man, can you  _ please _ stop talking in riddles?” He let out a groan, running his hands over his face. The skin pulled taught until he released, and in an instant it pulled back into place, like an elastic band. 

“Sorry, just ignore me.” He stood. The chair didn’t screech the same way it did at the tower. It was disheartening. Something he’d come to love - one of those things that irritates you but once it’s gone you wish you could get it back.. He pushed it back in, placing his hand on Sam’s shoulder. “Thanks for this, Sam.” 

“Anytime, Steve.” Sam looked up, giving Steve a very forced half smile. He wanted it to be genuine, and Steve could tell by the look in his eye, but it just - wasn’t. He could see the hurt in Steve, and sure, he believed the thank you - but Sam’s worry was growing. Steve was barely himself. He took missions, of course. He worked for S.H.I.E.L.D. when they needed him - even handled a couple of inhuman cases, but it just wasn’t in his heart. 

He left Sam alone in the cold kitchen. Left him in the cold house. Let the rain take him. He crawled onto the back of his motorcycle, ignoring the helmet that remained hooked onto the storage clamp. He let out a strange noise, something of a whimper and groan, like he was kicking his own ass for something he’d not yet done. Of course, with the distance his mind had traveled in “what if’s” over the past couple of months, it wasn’t really a surprise he assumed he’d do something regrettable. 

She started up with a roar, and the engine was revving a little faster than necessary. He adjusted the choke, feeling her calming down. He could hear Tony in the back of his mind, yelling at him for ruining his, “Only good leather jacket!” because, “Dammit, Steve! Leather and water don’t mix!” It forced a smile to wipe over his face. And for the first time in a while, his eyes had a small light in them. 

He pulled out into the road from the sidewalk. The best part of being up so early was the lack of people, and how the light’s were usually always green. This morning was not like that. He caught every single light, and he just wanted to get to the highway. He just wanted to ride, just a few hours, just to clear his head. But no. He kept stopping, literally every couple of blocks, waiting for the lights to cycle through. He even pulled to the right a couple of times, did an illegal u-turn, and turned right again to avoid waiting too long. 

He blamed missing the entire sunrise from the mountain top on the lights that morning. He was so used to seeing the light scream into his room through the blinds, that he’d vaguely forgotten what an actual sunrise looked like. And, yea, he thought going to the mountain and watching it would be a nice treat. Apparently the city of New York had other ideas. Steve was starting to regret the entire thing. 

Still he couldn’t deny the beauty of it all. The pink and oranges mixing together. The dew that tipped the grass in the field around him, twinkling as the light shredded through each molecule. Nature danced rainbows through the air, in the distance, and right before him. He stared at the misted air, smiling as the sun cast its light in every direction. It came through the mountain’s trees in the distance, and cloaked him in an instant warmth. 

He wondered how it managed to heat the air so quickly, curious at how the beams comforted him in a time of depression. Then the science side of his brain blamed it on a Vitamin D deficiency. He thought on it for a moment, letting the smile slip from his face. His chest heaved at the deep inhale of fresh morning air. It was still cold in his lungs, felt prickly and icy. And on the exhale a cloud of steam erupted around him. Had an onlooker seen, from the distance he looked like a smoker, he was sure of it. 

He had an image of Tony welded to the forefront of his mind, and it forced a sigh to part his lips open. And the sigh turned to a sob, and the sob turned to convulsions. He’d been holding it in for too long. It was coming out in the best possible place - solitude. Steve had a way of keeping his calm at every turn. He forced others to look upon him and see nothing more than a stone. A man of character, and value, and meaning. A man who would never crack under the immense pressures put on him. 

But he  _ had _ cracked. He’d been broken for so long, his face was a mask, his smile, his eyes, his body, every moment of his life had become an act. He hardly recognized himself - and with Tony gone it was ever harder. He felt like a piece of china - only for use during special occasions. And the set was missing a few pieces. 

Wiping the tears from his cheeks seemed pointless. He liked feeling the sticky against his face, tasting the salt every time he stupidly licked his lips to keep them wet in the crisp air. He could feel the chapping. He sat himself on his bike. The sun was well over the horizon. The day was new. 

He rode off, heading back the same way he’d come. He took in the changing smells, and the closer her got to the city, the more he could smell the industrial nature of it all. That was what triggered him to stop at the Brewing Flower. The same coffee shop he’d gone to time and time again, the one where he’d made plans to ask a question that he’d still then wanted to ask. 

He pulled his bike around the back, the shadow of a man catching his eyes, but before he could really see him, he’d already faded behind the corner. He checked on his locked up helmet and headed inside. It was just as welcoming as always, and the Barista still recognized him. Not that he’d looked much different, maybe a little older - more worried perhaps.

“Hey, Steve!” Her face was as warm as always. She started scribbling something down on the cup, going on about something but he only really engaged towards the end. 

“I think it was Wade - that Deadpool guy? You know the one working with Spiderman lately? Doesn’t he freelance with the Avengers too? I mean the new ones? I don’t know, I know you’re like, semi retired now?” She paused, brown lifting. “Steve? Hello?”

“What, oh, jeez, I’m sorry Larissa, I’m… Yea. Deadpool and Spiderman have been working together. Um, I’m not sure what’s going on with the Avengers. I’ve been working with S.H.I.E.L.D. though.” 

“Oh.” She nodded along, listening to him talk.

“I haven’t seen anyone except Falcon from the Avengers in a few months now.” He let out a sigh, trying to push out a smile.

“Are you and Tony fighting again?” She set his cup down, mouth in an upside down smile. Her body leaned in, head tilted to look up at him. “You know, he’s quite eligible, better lock that shit down.” 

“W-what?!” Steve’s face went red, he hadn’t realized so many people were aware of his affection towards Tony. 

“I’m not stupid, Steve… Tony might be, but I’m not. You spent like 3 hours here once drawing like a million pictures of him. If I didn’t know that you two know each other so well I’d call you a stalker.” Her voice went in waves as she spoke, definite intention to tease him until his entire body was red.

“You might still want to.” He let out a forced laugh, and she crossed her arms. 

“Very funny.” She rolled her eyes, starting on his drink. “I’m serious Steve. I know I don’t have the whole story, but I still remember the first time you brought him here, and how he came for an entire month, everyday, hoping to see you.” She let out a soft sigh, smiling at the memory that clouded her mind. 

“Tony?”

“Yea, when you disappeared… It was sad.  _ He  _ was sad. I felt so bad I kept giving him coffee for free and then - and then come to find out, all my school debt had been paid… I was really confused for the  _ longest _ time, and then he sent me a thank you - and… Seriously, jump on that or I will.” She chuckled. 

“Thanks.” Steve was still only half listening, not that he wanted to be, but the rouse of Tony’s memory in his mind was overwhelming. It had been so long since he’d seen him it was turning into a lust. 

“Oh, but about Wade… is he… like-” she stopped. “You know what, never mind.” She gave a weak smile and slid Steve his cup. 

“Thanks Larissa.” 

“Anytime Cap.” Her smile was devious, like she was planning something. The twinkle in her eye couldn’t be received any other way. 

Steve got back to Sam’s house. He kicked his shoes off and ran his hands through his hair. It was still early, about 9 in the morning. The sun was up and everyone was starting their day’s including Sam. Steve looked over at the fridge and saw the hasty and sloppy message that Sam had left. 

‘ _ Not sure if you’ll get this but I had to go out.’  _

Vague. Steve sighed and headed towards the bathroom. The shower sounded so inviting. He started to undo his pants on his way there, pulling his belt loose and out of the loops on his pants. He caught sight of some movement, but continued into the bathroom. THe last thing he needed was to get into a fight with his pants falling down. 

His hands moved quick, redoing the button, but he chose to keep his belt off - whip. There was a soft sound coming from down the hall, footsteps, someone trying very hard to not make a lot of noise - and failing to do so. He half recognized the click clack of the shoes against the wood. They weren’t heels, but they made enough noise for Steve to assume they were expensive. The reminded him of the sound Tony’s shoes made. 

He flung the door open and cracked the whip down the hall, perfect strike. But the shriek that came from the body wasn’t a voice he expected to hear. 

“What the hell Steve!?”

“Tony?!”

“You cut my cheek!” Tony touched his fingers to his cheek, looking at them to see the blood. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“I - I thought you-”

“Dammit, Steve!” Tony groaned, moving passed him. He opened the medicine cabinet and pulled out a small bandaid. He stretched it over the sizeable cut and looked back at Steve. “So this is how you greet your guests?” 

“I’m sorry Tony.” Steve dropped his belt, reaching out for Tony’s face. Neither one suppressed or really accepted the act of affection. It was  _ awkward. _ Tony felt Steve’s thumb over the injury, and Steve felt the warmth of Tony’s skin against his hand - and in that moment the air was hot, and thick, and they both dreaded looking at the other. Because temptation was raining down around them and with one simple glance the walls they’d both built would come tumbling down. 

“I just wanted to check in on you.” Tony forced the words out. He moved away from Steve and back to the main of the house. 

“Tony - I thought… I thought that you were…”

“I was. I’m not anymore. It’s been… Taken care of.” 

“What? How?”

“I’m a genius after all, right?”

“Self proclaimed, but yes.” 

“I have to be careful still, but it’s… resolved enough that I don’t… You’ll be safe… around me I mean. I took care of it, Steve. We don’t have to worry about Hydra-” he couldn’t breath through the kiss, let alone think. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly don't know when I'll be able to update again,... my life's kinda a shit storm again. :/
> 
> Also, wtf is with my chapter titling, like for real that shits ridic.


	21. She used to say, "Life has a way."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm leaving this blank  
> like my date book  
> lol  
> *cries*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG I UPDATED TWO DAYS EARLY???? WHAT IS THIS?!?!?!?!

“Steve - ok.” Tony laughed a little into the kiss. “Hey, hey, calm down.” He grabbed Steve’s face between his hot palms, staring at him, moving from eye to eye. “I’m here, I’m here, ok?” He pulled Steve into him, tangling his arms around the man’s neck with more strain than he thought he could ever express. 

“Tony… Tony, I thought - I thought I’d never see you again.” Steve’s hands couldn’t sit still, moving up and down Tony’s back, pulling him closer and closer until he worried that the man was being crushed beneath the strength of his embrace. 

“Ste-eve, breath. Air… need…” He tapped against Steve’s shoulder, but was only granted a small amount of death-grip release. He stayed like that, though, content, on his toes, face nuzzled into Steve’s neck, hands interlocked behind the base of his neck. The slight feeling of blonde hair running over the back of his hands. Steve’s hot breath against his neck. They were so close, so tightly held together by the force of the other. 

Their heat intermingled, and they took in the same air, both desperate for more connection, more feeling, more depth - to make up for lost time. Time they could never get back no matter how hard they may have wanted to. It was sad. How willingly they both walked away from each other, so that they could protect the other, and how willing each was to die for the other. 

“Tony-”

“It’s ok Steve.” Tony broke over Steve’s cracking voice, stroking the back of his head, holding him still, not letting him leave the hug. 

“Tony, I-”

“Steve, please, just… let’s just stay like this for a minute?” He pulled back a little, letting his breath press over Steve’s neck. It sent a shudder up the man’s spine, and he jolted, just a bit, into Tony. 

“Tony, I need you to know-”

“Steven Rogers.” Tony’s face failed at his attempt of conviction, shifting into humor. Steve could hear the smile in his voice, and pulled back to look down at him, ever so slightly. 

“Anthony Stark.” Steve’s smile warmed the room. It warmed Tony’s heart, lit the room in a casting of orange rays that plagued the entire house. 

“I missed you… so fucking much.” 

“Language, Tony.” Steve laughed, pulling him back into the deep embrace. It felt better than ever before. Like he’d been starving for affection, for a touch, for contact. 

“I forgot what you smelled like.” Tony’s eyes closed, and his head stayed tucked into Steve. The tight grip faded, and it was a loose embrace, like a swaying dance. 

“Like coffee?”

“Yea… like… like home. You smell like home.”

 

Steve never thought that he could have missed the smell of motor oil and machinery so much. But there was a bitter sweet filling in his gut as the tangy aroma filled his nose. He kept his head buried into Tony’s hair. It had grown a bit in the months they hadn’t seen each other. And, if he was being honest with himself, there was nothing more welcoming than the soft strands against his face. 

Tony tried to pull back, and while he was able to get a little breathing room, Steve’s grip was still too needing for him to attempt to continue departing. He enjoyed being there, anyhow. The nearly suffocating hold Steve had on him, how his hand couldn’t decide if it should sit at the small of his back, or hover over his spine. He just wasn’t sure where to go. It was so desperate in retrospect. The way Steve clung to Tony, like his life not only depended on it, but that his life wanted it. 

That triggered Tony to ponder at how love is much like a drug - and that cascaded into a deep understanding of why it was so hard. He finally realized why he spent so long working, staying up until his body gave out, working on anything and everything to occupy his mind - he needed the distraction. 

“Hey-” Tony cooed into Steve’s ear, reaching behind his own back to steady Steve’s wandering hands. “Deep breath, Cap.” 

Steve could hear the smile in Tony’s voice, and while he was sure the man was concerned with the sudden desperate act he was also sure he, on some level, enjoyed seeing Steve so distraught over him. 

“I’m sorry.” Steve’s voice was nearly a whimper. Pursed lips, and lifted eyebrows showed Tony the level of uncertainty that was coursing through Steve’s veins. 

“Here.” Tony tangled his fingers with Steve’s, keeping his eyes lifted ever so slightly to sky eyes across him. “Right here, ‘kay?” Tony moved Steve’s hands to the small of his back. “That better?” He smiled, leaning into him. 

“I’m sorry-”

“Shh.” His head plopped against Steve’s shoulder, and, even with lack of music, they swayed, dancing to music only they could hear. 

“What song is it?” Steve smiled against Tony’s cheek. 

“Iron man, what else?” Tony fought back a chuckle, he wasn’t actually sure if what his mind had come up with was a real song, or just honestly a random melody.

“Not particularly a swaying song, but ok.” Steve let out an audible laugh, pulling away from Tony just enough to see his eyes had closed. 

“What’d you have in mind, Cap?” Tony peeked open one eye to look at his Steve. 

“Doesn’t matter.” Steve’s voice brought a silence to the room, something they both knew would be the end of that conversation, and that, in time, would bring hope to the new day for them both. 

And while both Tony and Steve wanted, more than anything in fact, to think that their lives would have some level of normalcy they both knew, internally, that it was highly unlikely that they could ever lead “normal” lives. 

Maybe, just maybe, Steve could talk Tony into running a school, similar to Xavier’s, but for inhumans, perhaps. Mutants were well taken care of, in his eyes at least, and inhumans were being hunted, politics had their fangs into the young blood, and Steve had a hard enough time keeping away from it. 

With Tony back, and Steve knowing how the man literally lived in that light, he had a small inkling of hope that maybe if he pushed hard enough, and believed in it enough, and that if Tony could see what it meant, he’d be willing to fight for it too. 

That was going to be the total amount of normal they would ever receive in their lives. It was something, in a way, that Steve looked forward to. That one day, he could crawl out of bed to the sound of feet running up and down stairs too early for a saturday. He’d find Tony in the kitchen, pouring a cup of coffee, preparing to bring it to the den. He’d holler at the children to quiet so Steve could sleep - stop mid sentence with a smile on his face. And Steve would stare across the room, the smile being far too contagious for him to not twinkle a glowing smile back. 

The footsteps would stop, snickering would resume. They’d fight kissing right there, not wanting the teasing of young children to plague their day together. But they’d fail. Too close, too in love to care, really. They’d hold each other’s fingers, interlocked in desperation, and a simple forehead touch would turn to a loving kiss.

 

“Steve?”

“Sorry.. I was just - thinking.” He pulled back, turning away from Tony. “Did you hear about Natasha?” 

“Yea, due in May, right?” 

“Yea. The 29th.” Steve smiled, hearing the excitement in Tony’s voice. 

“You think Bucky’s gonna make a good Dad?” Tony laughed, grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl on the kitchen counter. 

“Honestly… I have no idea. But Tasha will be a  **_great_ ** mom. So… we’ll ignore Bucky’s existence in the matter.” Steve laughed. He paused for a moment, eyes staring at Tony as he bit into the apple. “So, I was thinking,” he started, “should I move back in?”

“Well, I mean, I don’t know. What about my string of lovers?” 

“Shut up, Stark.” Steve smiled, he pushed the apple away from Tony’s mouth and pulled him in. The smile that danced over his lips couldn’t be kept under control. 

“Well, I mean, give me an hour or so to set them up in a condo.” Tony’s joke kept playing Steve. 

“Oh, really? A condo? That’s the best you can do?” Steve’s arm shifted behind Tony’s back, resting around his waist.

“Well, I mean-” Tony’s eyes nearly rolled, humor dancing on his every word. 

“Don’t they deserve a yacht, at least?” Steve’s voice was cooing, dark and deep against Tony’s ears. 

“Sea legs-” Tony cut himself short, eyes shifting between Steve’s lips and his eyes. “You gonna kiss me or-”

He stopped as Steve’s lips met his. The sweet juice of the apple still staining Tony’s taste. He gripped tight onto Steve, waiting for the inevitable release of contact. He dreaded it, dreaded separating from Steve, even if for a moment. He didn’t want to let go, and Steve could tell. 

His grip wasn’t just tight, it was clawing. It was digging and digging against Steve’s shoulders. With nails, and a tight hold, that made knuckles bleed white. Steve wasn’t willing to let him go, either. The pain in the hold, he could feel everything that Tony had. The want, and need. He felt all the pain he had harbored in his solitude. 

“I want to open a school for the inhumans.” Steve knew it was his only chance. The breath came fast, and quick. “I want to… I want to have a family with you. And I think that’s the best option.” He looked down, holding Tony’s hands in his. 

“Steve?” Tony looked at him, head slightly turned. It was easy to see the level of insecurity he had with the idea. Even having only heard of it - he was worried. The world was at war against inhumans. 

“I… I want to have this with you, Tony. I want you. For the rest of my life, I want  _ you _ .” His heart had never raced as fast as it was just then. In that moment, admitting the same things he’d admitted a thousand times before. But then, it was harder. Because Tony was really, truly seeing him. 

Tony was looking at him, dead on, staring his beautiful brown eyes right at him, waiting, begging, expecting to never have him, not really. He was waiting for the azure eyes to look away, to pull and leave, to walk out. 

“I love you.” 

“I know-”

“No, Tony, let me finish.” Steve’s tongue ripped through his dry lips. His desperation to calm the lump in his throat was relieved, but only for a moment. 

“Ok, I’m sorry.” Tony’s hands started to fall, but before they could make it all the way down, Steve cupped them, and dropped down. One knee. 

“Steve?” Tony’s eyes went wide, and his face, Steve swore, turned white with shock. And he could swear, ever so slightly, Tony was sweating with nervousness. 

“I love you. More than life. And if I have learned anything in the months we’ve been apart, it’s that I don’t want to exist without you by my side. I have loved you, for longer than I was aware. You are my best friend. You are the light in my dark tunnel. You are the world to me. You mean more than life, than death, than anything.”

“Steve-I-” Tony’s voice quivered. 

“I wanted to ask you this, four months ago - but every time I thought was perfect… Life got in the way. I don’t want that to happen, ever again. Before I lose anymore time. Before I lose my bearings - Tony Stark-”

“Steve?” Tony’s hand shook in Steve’s, eyes staring hard at the hand that had disappeared into that damn leather jacket he’d worn in the rain. 

“Anthony Edward Stark,” he popped open the small maroon box. “I know it isn’t much.” Steve pause, looking down at the little ring, titanium and gold. “Will you marry me?” 

“Like you have to even ask.” 

“Is that a yes?”

“Yes, Steve, yes!” 

  
  
_ It was like life finally said, ‘Enjoy.’ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3 THE END :D
> 
> I felt this story winding down for a while, I'm surprised I got as much out of it as I did. I plan to keep writing Stony, so if you want more be sure to read my other works! I also write spideypool... so there's that.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos feed me, comments inspire me. (seriously... please take the three seconds to comment... I feel like this fic sucks because no ones commenting.


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